The I I, I I Harry Potter DoOver
by HermanTumbleweed
Summary: Two weeks after second year Harry wakes up with memories of being much older. He knows what will happen and vows to stop it, to stop Voldemort before he even comes back. But can he get out from under the Dursleys and the MOB? H/HR language and violence AU
1. Prologue: Lions Hippos and Berks, oh my!

The Inimitably Inspired, Indubitably Irreverent Harry Potter Do-Over

By

Herman Tumbleweed

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction and is in no way meant to infringe on the copyrights of the various Harry Potter franchises. I receive no remuneration from this; it is written solely for my pleasure. In other words, this is so not mine; if it was would I be posting it for free on the internet? Unfortunately, this is just a podgy old country boy from parts unknown playing about in the lovely J K Rowling's huge sandbox. I promise to put the toys back when finished, hopefully still in good condition.

**A/N:** This tale started life, in part, as a plot bunny by Loralee1 on fanfiction(dot)net, a short ficlet called The Dream. I read it one morning while still half asleep and it reminded me of a story I had wanted to write for a while, which could only be made better using her starting point. In essence the two plot bunnies mated in my mind (and not like yer thinkin', so get yer mind out of the gutter). I asked her to let me use her bunny and unfortunately she said yes, so now I have one more story to write. Since very little of Lora's story remains here, I take full responsibility for whatever mayhem might be caused by (or in) this.

**Please note**: I have **advanced the timeline to ten years **_**later**_** than canon** so as to take advantage of certain technologies not readily available in the '90's. This story **starts** as if it is the summer of **2003**. I have also fiddled with the timing of certain events, taken creative license if you will, so as to make them work within the framework of the story. In some cases I did this for dramatic or comedic reasons. Besides, this story is decidedly **AU** **and will diverge significantly from canon**.

**Prologue: Lions, Hippos, and Berks, oh my!**

In the waning days of summer term, in his second year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter was troubled by something. He kept trying to catch the headmaster's eye so he could ask a question or two, but hadn't been able to get the man to even look at him. For all that the big berk acted all grandfatherly at times, Harry now noticed that the old man ignored him for the most part. As the students had the last week at school mostly free, he managed to shake off Hermione and Ron one afternoon to make his way to Professor McGonagall's office. He thought he'd ask her if she could get him in to see the headmaster.

Upon hearing his request, she kindly asked, "Mr Potter, why on earth would you need to speak with the headmaster? Are you having some sort of trouble over what happened down in the chamber?" She thought that if it was her, even at her age, she'd be having nightmares over that episode.

"Erm, no, ma'am. I want to know if I can go somewhere else besides the Dursley's this summer. I don't like it there much." He didn't know the deputy headmistress all that well, though he did like her a lot. He just didn't want to have to tell her why; it wasn't something he wanted to talk to _anyone_ about.

"Now, Harry, a lot of children think they don't like their families at times, but in your case, they are _all _the family you have. That's why Professor Dumbledore insisted that you be left with them when your parents were… er, well, were killed that horrible night."

Harry thought carefully; it didn't sound like the professor was going to help him get in to see the headmaster, at least not without some really good reasons. Having a thought, he pleaded, "I still would like very much to speak with Professor Dumbledore. It seems like he could do something so I don't have to go back there. They don't treat me very good, Professor." He could feel his eyes stinging and didn't want to cry in front of his teacher.

"What do you mean, Harry?" Her eyes had narrowed, though her ire didn't seem to be directed at him.

"Erm, I… Professor McGonagall, it's just that…" he trailed off feeling the tears getting too close to falling.

"Harry," she said kindly, "tell me what's troubling you, please."

"I… I… I hate it there… I…d…don't ever want to…g…go back. They don't like me at all. I can't ever make them happy…" he left off again because he knew he was starting to sound a like he was begging and really didn't want to say any more. He knew he'd get in a lot of trouble if they found out he had told anyone anything at all, as he wiped angrily at his eyes with his sleeves. He hated that he had cried even a little bit in front of his Head of House, who was also his favourite teacher.

Minerva was perplexed. She'd had a few students over the years who acted a little like this, but was finding it hard to understand what was going on with the boy.

Gently, she told him, "I don't want to invade your privacy, Harry, but I need more to go on than just generalities like those."

Harry thought, "_Merlin, what does it take to get through…"_ He couldn't think of what to say next at first, but reluctantly decided to giver her a little. This was harder than rescuing Ginny, he thought.

"Alright," he said timorously, "I…I'll tell you a little. Th…they don't feed me very much most of the time, even though Dudley eats like a pig and gets all he wants. It just isn't fair." He thought he sounded like he was whinging, but couldn't help it as his eyes got watery again. "I'm hungry most of the time there. And…and they make me wear his old clothes and he's huge, like three times my size." He couldn't force any more past his lips right then; it had taken all he had to get even that much out. Once again, he angrily swiped at the tears on his face. This was just so hard.

Minerva sat back, floored by what Harry had said. She didn't at all like the sound of what he told her, but didn't know much about this kind of thing. In thirty-nine years of teaching only a few children had come to her with the kinds of problems Harry seemed to be talking about, but none had come right out and asked not to go home for the summer. However, it occurred to her, from the way Harry was acting, it might go much deeper, was perhaps much worse than he had related so far.

After deliberating a few more moments, she asked, "Is there more than that, Harry? I'd like to help in any way I can, be certain of that." She hoped she sounded reassuring. This was well beyond her experience, and for some reason unsettled her greatly. She could see Harry was struggling to come up with an answer, and didn't quite understand why. It reminded her of another student, one who came from a mixed family – muggle father and witch mother – who had had similar problems… he was now a potions master and professor here at Hogwarts, _unfortunately_ she often added to herself. She had talked with him a couple of times when he was a student, but he had been reticent in the extreme about sharing what happened in his home life, had in fact gotten quite angry about her "sticking her nose into his business". However, it seemed Harry was having the same sort of problems Severus had had.

For his part, Harry was mortified of what could happen to him if Petunia found out he'd "snitched" on what went on in that house; let alone what Vernon would do. After nearly a minute of silently fighting his fears, he finally decided he needed to give his Head of House a bit more to use in getting Dumbledore's attention. He blurted, "They make me work all day in the gardens and stuff, and **he** never has to do any of that. It just isn't fair the way they make me work hard without making Dudley, and then I don't ever get enough to eat… oh, I told you that." He collected himself for a moment, and started to add, "And last summer… well, never mind about that…" he trailed off not wanting to talk about it. If he told her and wound up having to go back it might be a lot worse than just bars on the windows and locks on the door. It could be much worse, especially if Vernon got even angrier than normal or Marge came to visit.

Harry had his head down. Truth be told, he was extremely embarrassed about how the Dursleys had treated him for as long as he could remember. He had always known that whatever the reason was for them to treat him the way they did, it was because he wasn't good enough, didn't do enough, or something like that. Trouble was it didn't make sense. He did more in one day than Dudley had ever done in his whole life, but it still was never enough. Of course, it had been even worse since he had found out he was a wizard. Summers were getting even more unbearable and he didn't know how much more he could take.

Minerva thought carefully about what Harry had said, especially the line he had let trail off and wondering what that might have been. Instinctively she knew it was not something she wanted to press him on. In fact, she could sense that it was unlikely he would give her any more to work with. What she already had might be enough to sway the headmaster into at least giving Harry the benefit of the doubt, but she also knew how pig-headed the man could be at times. The night they left the boy hero at that Muggle home had been one of them. She hadn't liked it then, and was even surer now it had been the wrong thing to do.

Speaking kindly still, Minerva told him, "Harry, I'll talk with the headmaster as soon as I can. I won't promise anything, but I will definitely bring all of this to his attention."

Harry sighed in resignation. "Thank you, Professor. I reckon that is all I can ask for."

He left the office not feeling any better than when he went in, worse in fact. He'd hated having to tell her that stuff, because he knew what the Dursley's reaction would be if they found out. Fortunately, it occurred to him, there was very little interaction between the Hippo and Giraffe and the Wizarding World. He chuckled to himself, as he often did these days, when he thought of those nicknames he'd secretly assigned to his uncle and aunt.

With a smile on his face, Harry went to find his friends. Despite how he'd felt before, having something to laugh about had helped ease his heart.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Minerva wasn't able to talk with Albus until the following morning, the day before the train left. That morning he was actually in his office and not off to the Wizengamot or some such, so she could address several things with him. When she explained all that Harry had said, he replied in his usual twinkly-eyed overly calm manner. She sometimes wondered if he was over-using calming draughts.

"Now, Minerva, we've had this conversation before, as we both know, on the night we left him with his family. It really is the best place for him, and he is protected there from those who might wish him harm."

"How is he protected, Albus? If those people are as horrid as I believe them to be, I fear for the young man. I feel strongly that we have done him a great disservice for the past twelve years, truth be told."

"You know that I have Arabella living nearby and she watches him as much as she can, has even been his minder on occasion. Besides, how could Lily's sister be anything but good to her own flesh and blood? You know what a wonderful mother Lily was, I doubt very seriously that Petunia is much different. It would seem young Harry is simply wanting to spend the summer with his friends rather than his family. But I reiterate that it is critical he return there for a time each summer to renew the protections afforded him by his mother's sacrifice."

"So you are saying you will not even give the boy the courtesy of hearing first hand what he has to say then?"

You know how busy I am, we are, rather, at this time of year, and I see no reason to waste valuable time on the whims of a twelve year old who wants what he cannot have. Now, didn't you say you had other concerns to bring to my attention?"

Minerva sighed heavily. Pig headed was a barely adequate description of the man when he made up his mind on something. She was beginning to think that many of his decisions regarding young Mr Potter and many other things had crossed the line between what is right and what is easy. Replying as normally as possible, she said, "Very well, Albus, I shall tell Mr Potter he must return to his _family_ for the summer." She stressed the one word almost sarcastically. In her mind she added, "_And I shall be checking out the veracity of his story, on that you can bet your twinkle, old friend_." To Albus she crisply continued, "On to other business then…"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Min had missed lunch that day in the great hall because of a ruckus Peeves had created in the hallway leading to Ravenclaw tower. It seemed he had found some old fireworks, Merlin knows where, and somehow set them off which caused all manner of mayhem. Students had scattered, basically running for their lives, and as the first of the staff on the scene she had been able to banish all the items still flying about, burning, and/or fountaining all up and down the corridor. Needless to say, Mr Filch was extremely displeased about the mess, and getting him calmed had taken even more of her time. She finally had just gone to her office, taken a headache potion, and called her little house elf friend Tonny to bring her some lunch.

Feeling better by mid afternoon, the Deputy Headmistress went in search of young Harry to advise him of the Headmaster's decision. It was not a conversation she was looking forward to. As she stepped outside, she realized what a glorious summer day it was and was not at all disgruntled over spending a bit of time looking for her student.

After perhaps half an hour of searching she spotted Harry and his friends in a small copse of trees near the lake. As she approached them, Miss Granger was the first to notice, being the only one facing her direction. Min saw, rather than heard, the girl tell the boys of her approach. They all stood, and Harry looked happily expectant at her arrival. That made it even harder to tell him what the stubborn old coot had said.

She pushed aside her grim thoughts, and smiled at the three young Gryffindors whom she well knew to be as lionhearted as they came. "Mr Potter, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, it is nice to see you all enjoying this lovely day. It took me a while to find you, Mr Potter, but I can't say it was an unpleasant task given how delightful it feels to be out in the sunshine."

Harry had that lopsided smile of his which reminded her so very much of his father, and his eyes sparkled in the sunlight, the eyes of her dear friend Lily. How she missed them when she saw him so happy like this. It made it even harder to present the bad news.

Excitedly he asked, "Did you talk to Professor Dumbledore, did he say I could see him; or did he tell you I could go somewhere else?"

It took all her effort to give a small smile to the boy before turning serious. "I'm afraid the news is not what you wished, Mr Potter. Headmaster Dumbledore told me it is very important for you to stay at your relatives' home for a time each summer. Apparently it provides you with some sort of protection having to do with your mother's sacrifice. I know no more than that. I am sorry; I wish I could help you myself."

Harry's face fell, and then his head drooped so he was looking at his feet when he mumbled, "That's okay, Professor, I know you tried. I really do appreciate it. Thank you."

Placing a hand gently on the young man's shoulder, she told him in a warm tone, "Don't give up, Harry. I will keep trying, on your behalf, to get something done about this. I believe you, but unfortunately the Headmaster does not."

He looked up with a sad smile, saying, "Thanks again, Professor; it is good to know that at least _you_ care about me."

Min was taken aback by that statement, but put kept her face as impassive as possible. Pasting on a slight smile, she told him sincerely, "You are entirely welcome, Harry. Your parents were not only two of my favourite students, they were also good friends later on. I would do whatever I could for their son."

His sad smile remained and his eyes shone, then he swallowed hard as he nodded once to her. He appeared to be holding back tears of frustration and she did not blame him. Min returned the nod, saying pleasantly to them all, "Enjoy the rest of your day, I shall see you all at the leaving feast this evening."

With that she spun on her heel before the moisture in her own eyes could develop further. Then she got angry at both Albus and herself, and mentally kicked her own backside all the way to her office. When she was eventually settled behind her desk, she thought, "_I swear I will do whatever it takes to learn the truth about Harry's situation in that home. I should have done years ago. By Merlin, if I need to I'll remove him myself, Albus Dumbledore, the old berk, be damned._" A thought occurred to her then that perhaps another former student and long-time friend of hers might be of considerable assistance. She smiled grimly and turned her attention back to her work, saving that battle for another day.

More to come in Chapter One

A/N: The chapter title is a take off on a song from The Wizard of Oz movie. Thank you for reading, and I really do appreciate all the reviews I get. Thanks also to my betas, Tommy, Mike, and Randy. You guys really make this look a lot better.


	2. Chapter 01 I Gotta Get Outa This Place

The Inimitably Inspired, Indubitably Irreverent Harry Potter Do-Over

By

Herman Tumbleweed

**Disclaimer:** See Prologue, unless you think I might own this. If so, meet me at Kelly's bar on Third so we can talk over some other interesting ideas I've had.

**A/N:** If you recognize a little of this it is because I adopted a plot bunny of Lorrale1, which she graciously agreed to. Stupid, I know; but hey, what's one more story to write? GRIN

**Further A/N:** Snowy owls don't generally hoot, in fact out of mating season they don't say much at all. Instead they make a variety of other unusual sounds which can be very expressive. They are also diurnal, which means they are awake during the day, as opposed to most owls which are nocturnal, hunting and such at night. I'm using this bit of authenticity to add a modicum of realism for this story. Why, you ask? Because I'm the writer, and I can … so there! Ms Rowling admitted to having discovered this error after the first few books were already out, but having started with the hooting she continued using it. Besides, this story is decidedly AU and will diverge significantly from canon. The first line is a slightly altered use of the ending of DH.

**Please note**: I have advanced the timeline to ten years later than canon so as to take advantage of certain technologies not readily available in the '90's. This story starts as if it is the summer of 2003.

**Chapter One: I Gotta Get Outa This Place**

_Harry stood on the platform, arm around Ginny with Lily leaning up against him, his hand comfortingly on his daughter's shoulder, until the train was out of sight_. _Then he turned and_, with a shudder, rolled over and woke in his bed. Only something was not right. He was in a small, dingy bedroom which was definitely not in his manor house; a chillingly familiar, small bedroom, and on a lumpy mattress… a familiar, narrow, lumpy mattress.

"_Oh crap_," he thought, "_this can't be_…" Then he raised his head to peer nearsightedly about the in the dim pre-dawn light, provided solely from the well lit Privet Drive, and spied a white blur on the old desk by the window.

Harry jumped out of bed and flew to his owl's cage. "Hedwig," he cried. The blur chattered a familiar, and warm, cheery good morning to him as she woke. Gently extracting her from her perch, he cuddled the beautiful creature to his chest. Oh how he'd missed her. He'd never understood how or why she'd had to die on that fateful day. Hedwig had been his truest, most loyal friend for six years, and to have her senselessly taken from him…. He didn't even notice the tears streaking his face as he held her to him and caressed her soft feathers.

He had her back and that was all that mattered… but how? By rights he should be a thirty-seven year old father of three, a renowned Auror, respected author, and killer of the snaky git who'd made his and so many people's lives so miserable for many years. But he was also a twelve year old, just into the throes of puberty and hormonal overdrive, who had finished his second year at Hogwarts two weeks previously, and who would soon turn thirteen.

_"Was it all a dream?"_ he thought. "_How can that be_?" Carefully moving Hedwig up to his shoulder, he absently wiped his face on the baggy t-shirt sleeve, put on his glasses, and opened his trunk. The lovely creature woofed a couple of times, apparently sensing his distress as he rifled through the messy contents looking for anything to help him sort out this latest aberration in his life. He smiled at her, rhetorically asking, "Why do all the weird things have to happen to me?_"_ She gave a low growl and he chuckled at her expressiveness. It was one of the things he'd always loved about her.

As his hands roamed through, and sorted, the contents of his messy trunk, he also thought,_ " Hmm, gotta clean up my act, this chaos is never gonna get it. Need to be more like Hermione: organized and everything_. _Just the way I became after snake face was worm food and I concluded I was an adult, even if I didn't really want to be_." Pausing a second, he contemplated that thought. _"Er,"_ he mused, _"did that really happen?"_

An odd idea came to mind, and he asked Hedwig,"Could that be it? Could I have dreamed the future? Possible…" he supposed. Hedwig made no reply. "Does that make me a seer?" There was still no comment from the shoulder gallery. He'd seen the Divination teacher a few times, mostly during holidays, when she'd ventured down from her tower home and classroom. He also remembered having taken her class in his "dream". Was he now a Trelawney wannabe – he snorted at the thought. But then he laughed outright as, unbidden, an image came to mind of him in a turban with a bright shawl around his shoulders hunched over a crystal ball. "Gah!" he said to Hedwig, "now I gotta scrub my brain; no way I'm keeping that image," as he laughed at himself. She gave three short sharp barks, as if saying, "I know what you mean".

The laughter was short lived though, as a veritable cascade of memories, most totally foreign to him, flooded his mind. It made him very uncomfortable to know what had happened, or could happen, in the future. Things had gotten increasingly worse each year, according to those memories, until the end of what should have been his seventh year at Hogwarts. That's when Voldemort was finally and permanently defeated.

It was all very confusing. How could he make the changes necessary to alter that future? Would it be possible to delay or even prevent Snake Man's return somehow? Could Wormtail be captured at some point this year? Would it be possible to convince some adult, as a third year student, that the rat was an animagus? Would Ron disown him and disavow their friendship over losing his pet? Mostly he wondered if he could trust those memories.

Then a few ideas came to him, and he sat stiffly on his bed for a moment pondering possibilities. If Mr Weasley won the prize from the Daily Prophet, if Sirius escaped next month, if Ron invited him and Hermione to the World Cup next year and Krum caught the snitch… he'd know. But then a simpler, much quicker solution than any of those came to mind which would be an excellent gauge of how true they were. Further it might reveal how much he could trust Snape, at least as far as you can trust a black mamba in Professor's robes. Yes, the man would always be a snaky, sneaky, snarky, foul, greasy git, but he needed to know if the man had known Lily Potter as a child; if he could be trusted as Dumbledore always insisted. Although, with the memories he had, he'd never trust the man completely.

Harry sat lost in thought, to put it mildly, as his current self of nearly thirteen warred with the thirty-seven year old's memories for domination. Harry was beginning to think he was going barmy at one point. He'd been carrying on a muttered conversation with himself for a couple of minutes before he realized it and shut himself up.

Harry finally put his mental foot down and made it clear that this was his life to live and the other memories had already had their/his shot at it. Now it was **his** turn; and besides, he still wasn't convinced the memories were valid anyway.

Having made that firm decision, he took a suggestion from the memories, regardless of his scepticism, and scrambled about finding a muggle notebook and biro. He wanted to scribble down all he could recall of that future in case it was somehow lost from his mind. Since it was not yet 4:30 am, he had time. Hedwig apparently decided she'd had enough and flew back to her cage, barking at him once more as if to say, "I'm going back to sleep now, try to keep the noise down". He grinned at his feathered friend and nodded. She turned away, closing her eyes, and said no more.

He noted absently he had about two hours before he'd need to start cooking breakfast, as he opened the notebook and prepared to write. If the memories were real, and he was fairly sure they were, he would find ways to change that future so some people he'd grown to love wouldn't have to die. And, some other people he knew wouldn't have to grow up without their own loving parents, as he had done. Harry didn't know how yet, but he would find a way; of that he had no doubt.

For a moment he sat and thought of where to start, and he recalled something from what he was starting to call the future memories. He shook his head trying to wrap his brain around _that_ concept. The episode in question was a brief conversation with Headmaster Dumbledore, when Harry had told him about the prophecy Trelawney had given on the afternoon before Wormtail escaped. He recalled the old buzzard had blithely mentioned it might have been her second true prophecy. The event was nearly a year away yet, but wouldn't happen now, hopefully.

Harry blinked, rapidly. Why hadn't he asked the question then? It was so obvious in hindsight. All he'd had to ask was, _"Headmaster, what other prophecy has she given?"_ Then he thought, _"For that matter, why didn't I ask him why Riddle in the diary would have found him, Harry, so interesting. The shade, or whatever it was, did say it had wanted to meet and speak with him for a long time."_ He knew Riddle had become Voldemort, but that didn't explain what the shade had meant, or anything else. Harry knew he wasn't stupid, but he was (or had been, depending on which set of memories he was using at the moment) very inexperienced in dealing with people. Later on he knew what the shade had been going on about, but had always wished he'd asked then.

As more memories from later on came clear, he wished he could have seen the truth much earlier. If the future memories were correct, it was quite clear how the old buzzard had intentionally… He was beginning to think very unpleasant thoughts about the Manipulative Old Bas… Buz… Bustard. _"Now there's a cool word,"_ he thought and chuckled. He was certain the MOB would somehow have weaselled out of answering, had he asked about Trelawney's prophecies and Riddle's interest in him. Undoubtedly the old man would have cited Harry's age again on both, since they were essentially the same thing. He now knew the diary had been a horcrux and it would have been good for him to know more about that whole mess a lot sooner than he did.

The young wizard was angry about the old man making him stay here with his "family" and that the MOB had not even had the courtesy to hear his complaints at school a couple weeks before. For a few moments he was also irate that he'd been so manipulated for so long, but then he chuckled at the fruitlessness of that line of thought. "_Much of it_ _hasn't even happened yet, so no worries_," he concluded._ "I missed several prime opportunities the first time; and this past year, for that matter. I won't miss any again. **This time,** I won't be so damned stupid and trusting. Besides, I already know what I need to; I just have to figure out what to do with that knowledge. For one thing, I want to talk to Hermione, spend some time with her this summer-and maybe I can gain a few other allies as well, and can get out from under the MOB's thumb. But first I gotta get this all down so I don't forget_." With that he went to scribbling furiously_._

Nearly two hours later he'd managed to write out all the details he could think of in sort of an outline form; one section for each of the next five years. He glanced at the calendar where he always checked off the days until his birthday and/or when school started. The last day marked was eighth July, making today the ninth. "_Perfect_," he thought, "_that gives me over six weeks to get my ducks all lined up before school starts."_ He'd definitely need to get in touch with Hermione, and wondered if her parents would let him visit for a few days so he could get her input. It would be good to talk with his bushy haired genius friend and to spend some time planning carefully with her. He'd have to convince her of the veracity of what he had to say first, but was confident he could.

A soft, pleased smile came over Harry's face as he thought of the lovely young brunette. However, those barely conscious thoughts of Hermione were interrupted when he instinctively took note of his relatives moving about in the master bedroom.

Taking his cue, he put his things away and went down to start breakfast for the family that he would never claim as his own. It was a feeling he knew to be all too mutual. Accessing the other memories, he realized his relationship with the Dursleys would never change. He thought, _"Sad really, what might have been but never will; too much water past the dam."_

As he cooked, he thought of what he would like bring about. If he was to get anything accomplished he'd need to be much more mobile than was possible for him at present, stuck here under the distrustful eyes of his accursed relatives. As he was not yet thirteen years old achieving that was a BIG problem. Being at the Burrow with the Weasley family would be just as bad as here, Molly being Molly, so his mind moved on to other possibilities.

He grimaced as he thought of the fact that Vernon's sister, Marge, was currently in residence. And that was not to mention her evil and thoroughly disgusting, mangy cur bulldog Ripper. He often wished he could obliterate the nasty thing, and probably would have years ago with a burst of accidental magic, but for the fact he liked most animals quite a lot.

Could he stay with Hermione and her family for a while? Could he get access to a magical library where he could find out some needed information? Would it be better to spend some gold at Flourish and Blotts instead? He started a mental list of things he needed to know or do, thinking he'd jot them down when he got back upstairs, as his mind continued to whirl. The tracking charm called the Trace on underage magical persons, used by the Ministry to detect magic done by or near them until after they turned 17, was a pain; could it be removed, and if so how? Was it actually there, or had someone been blowing smoke up the collective arses of wizarding youth. He knew how to Apparate, or at least had memories of doing so. If he could still do it, would the Ministry be able to track him if he did? He didn't think so, but wanted to know for sure. Would they be able to if the Trace charm was removed?

Who could he get to help him if he was unable to move around by himself? Remus? Now there was a possibility. Dobby? Another good idea. This time his excitable little friend would not take a knife through the chest, not if Harry had anything to say about it! He still felt the deep pang of loss and regret for his diminutive friend. He'd try calling him when he got back upstairs. It would be good to see him again, and even if he was working at Hogwarts by now at least they could talk. Perhaps if the little elf was not yet employed he could be hired. He might be willing to leave there even if he was. There were things which would be difficult for him, Harry, to accomplish at this time; things which Dobby could do for him.

His mental list was growing rapidly, so after checking that nothing on the stove was in danger of burning any time soon he dashed upstairs as quietly as possible and returned a moment later with his notebook. As soon as he got back to the kitchen, he checked the food was okay, turning some bacon, and then quickly jotted his earlier thoughts down. The first ones were of the horcruxes. He'd need to gather and destroy them all as soon as possible.

He distractedly wondered what Horcrux was used in the return of Snake Face during that vile ceremony two years from now. Was one even needed; was it the part in his head that had brought the loathsome creature back to life? No, that didn't make sense. Surely they had used one to return him to a body; was it when they made the homunculus, or in the graveyard? Perhaps it was that Voldemort's soul was still viable and a Horcrux was not needed to bring him back. If that was true, why had Malfoy tried to use the diary Horcrux this past year? Probably Malfoy _didn't know_ his "beloved master" was still out there in some form. Harry thought it just as likely the blonde ponce didn't know the blasted diary _was_ a Horcrux thinking it to be just some dark item which would cause trouble for Dumbledore.

More research, or at least some deep thinking, was needed on all of those things and more, such as how he could get rid of that piece in his head short of another Killing Curse? Those damn things hurt worse than the Cruciatus. Hermione's excellent mind and reasoning skills would be a great help with figuring all that out.

The biggest problem, as he saw it, was in not tipping his hand too soon, either to the MOB, the Ministry, or to the Death Eaters, particularly Lucky Lucy Malfoy. This thought brought up several more items to add to his to-do-soon list. He'd like to expose as many free death eaters as possible, but wondered if doing so would inadvertently reveal more than he wanted to of himself. He reckoned a way could be found past that with Hermione's help, and that of others.

_"What about the Weasley twins,"_ he wondered, "they are about the most devious people I know." That left him to mull over whether they could be trusted, at their current age, to be mature enough to keep secrets this crucial. He was fairly sure they could.

That brought up a thought about the upcoming World Cup next year. Would certain opportunities present themselves there? He thought perhaps some Death Eaters could be exposed and "caught in the act", so to speak. There had been quite a crowd of them, perhaps they could all be rounded up and imprisoned. But that would most likely mean getting rid of Sludgy Fudgy first. He wondered if it were even remotely possible to enlist the help of the Goblins in some way in bringing down Fudge if they would help him retrieve the thrice damned Horcrux in Bellatrix's vault. He thought that if properly approached there was a good chance for both. Merlin knew he did NOT want to try breaking into a vault again.

All this time, Harry had been cooking the family breakfast by rote. Now, hearing the resident hippo, aka his Uncle, thudding down the stairs, he put the just finished eggs along with some bacon and toast on a warm plate. After setting it on the table, he poured coffee and put that at the man's place as well. As he was doing that the walrus opened the front door and muttered about having to go outside to get the newspaper. Stomping toward the kitchen, the behemoth was ranting about useless paperboys who couldn't put the paper on the porch. Harry shook his head; some things just never changed… or did they? He figured he'd see about that within a couple of months, maybe sooner.

One thing he'd noticed, was that, as time went by, his current personality was overcoming the memories even more. He recalled that when he'd first awakened, it seemed like he **was** that thirty-seven year old, trapped in a boy's body. Now, he felt like himself again, but with those memories to help and to guide him. It was a strange thing, and he knew it would need lots of thought, and possibly a long discussion with Hermione, perhaps with others as well. He wondered why he smiled now every time he thought of her.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

An hour or so later, the round mound of bellow and bluster had left for work. The pig in a wig had been slopped – or fed, rather – and was now firmly ensconced in the lounge with a bag of crisps and a fizzy drink watching cartoons. The Barge, as he'd now designated her, had taken her asinine comments about Harry upstairs for her morning meditation on the "throne". He reminded himself to use the downstairs loo before returning to his room. The upstairs one would be uninhabitable for at least an hour.

Aunt Petunia was lingering at the table over a cup of tea and her latest gossip magazine, while Harry finished cleaning the kitchen. As he placed the last pan in the drainer and dried his hands, he looked at the woman who had raised him, for good or ill, and wondered how she'd react to what he'd planned. He walked over to the table, fixed himself a cup of tea, and sat down at his usual place. While this was not his customary routine, he did occasionally sit for a few minutes like this, so Petunia paid him no mind.

Harry thought over what he'd written in the notebook earlier, and the entries he still needed to make. He'd do so in a few minutes, but right now he needed to ask his aunt one question. He hoped either her answer or her reaction, preferably both, would tell him the truth. After working up his courage, he looked across the table and just watched her for a few moments.

She was concentrating on her magazine, but after a bit, she looked up at him. At first she rather glared over his staring at her, but her face seemed to soften a bit and the hard line of her mouth eased a little.

_"In for a Knut, in for a Galleon,"_ Harry thought.

"Aunt Petunia," he asked in a level voice, "may I ask you about something?"

He seemed to have caught her at just the right time, because she would normally have told him no. This time, however, she eyed him curiously and nodded stiffly. He wondered if it was because of all the abuse Marge always heaped on him, although she had often been slightly more willing to answer his questions than had Vernon.

Screwing up his courage again, Harry asked, "Did you ever hear of someone named Severus Snape."

The woman's initial reaction told Harry everything. She drew back in obvious horror, with a deer-in-the-headlights look, and stifled a screech as her hand covered her mouth. Finally, she calmed after a few seconds, and eyed Harry apprehensively. In a very taut voice she asked, "Why… why would you ask about that… that… devil incarnate. No! Don't answer that. If you've met him I don't want to know about it!" Her manner and statement brought that discussion to a full stop.

Harry was thinking hard now. Since her reaction and answer confirmed his suspicions, he desperately needed to get away from here, preferably without alerting Dumbledore, if at all possible.

"Aunt Petunia," he queried, "I'd like to make a couple of requests." She looked up again, with an odd air about her, one that didn't seem to fit known parameters; it wasn't as hostile as it could have been, but neither was it friendly – more a sort of bored semi-disinterest. Harry pressed on, "There is a friend I'd like to visit. I believe she lives near London, but I'd need to ring her and see if it is possible to do so. Would that be alright? I mean, to ring her and, if possible, to visit for a few days. She lives in a, er, _normal_ household. Her parents are dentists."

The woman's face went through several turns in a matter of moments. Harry could nearly see the thoughts flit through her mind. _Get him out from underfoot for a few days, even if it made him happy; a small war with Vernon over getting him to drive the boy anywhere; not having to feed him, but also not getting the chores done around the house; not having to listen to Marge rant to and about him; _and a few others Harry couldn't quite identify.

Finally, she spoke after nearly a minute, her voice clipped but not hostile, "Why don't you ring up your friend?" she said in a neutral tone, "Might be best if her parents could pick you up." She didn't need to add what Vernon would say about taking him anywhere. Then she added, "I think it would do us all good if you were away for a few days, especially with Marge here until next week."

Harry couldn't agree with that last sentence more, but somehow kept the smirk off his face. "I'll do that just now then, and thank you, Aunt Petunia." She nodded once, stiffly, in reply. After quickly rinsing his cup in the sink, he made a beeline for his room to dig up Hermione's number.

When the Hogwarts Express was slowing down as it neared King's Cross, he'd had a brainwave and given Ron and Hermione his phone number. He was glad now she had reciprocated and given him hers as well, along with her address so he could write letters and send them muggle post if he needed to. With her phone number he didn't need to wait for a delivery by Hedwig, and the return, even if it might be only a few hours. He was very anxious to see what might happen.

Ron had called a week into the holiday and thoroughly enraged the resident rhino just a few days prior to the arrival of its/his sister. Harry was fairly sure the man hadn't forgotten about the incident. However, acting true to form the hippo had done his best to put a good face on things for now to keep Marge ignorant of the Wizarding World. The messy-haired wizard was thankful for small favours. With any luck, though, he could slip out from under The Barge's too ardent gaze and be gone before she even realized what was happening.

He practically dove under his bed to retrieve that oh-so-important scrap of parchment from under the loose floorboard, and then quickly, but quietly, slipped back downstairs. Snatching up the hall phone, Harry dialled the number his brilliant friend had given him. He listened to the phone ring on the other end, hoping desperately someone was there, a certain someone special. Smiling, he imagined her huffing over having to put down a book and dash to the phone, the noise having taken two rings to filter through her consciousness. He was mildly surprised when it was picked up on the second ring and the voice he knew so well said, "Hello?"

For some odd reason his heart skipped a beat at the warm sound of her voice and his own voice caught briefly. Forcing his voice past the catch and still smiling, he said "Hi, Hermione, it's Harry."

His statement was met with total silence. For a couple of seconds there was nothing on the line and he was beginning to think the call had been interrupted, when she finally squeaked out, "Harry?" Her voice gaining strength, she asked, "Is it really you, Harry? My gosh, your relatives actually let you use the phone? Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

He cut in before she could get herself worked up, "I'm fine, Hermione, and yes, my aunt let me use the phone to ring you. I hope it's not too early."

"No," she replied, sounding thoroughly confused, "it's fine, but what…"

He cut her off knowing he could save a bit of the time he might soon run out of, and to keep her from getting more stressed. "I wanted to talk with you for a bit because I would like to come see you."

Again the silence as she processed a totally unheard of request. But from her gushing reply he knew she was happy about it. "Oh, Harry, that would be marvellous. I'd love to see you too. I know it's only been two weeks, but I get so lonely here without you guys. I'm ever so glad you rang. Will you be able to very often?"

Harry smiled at the typical Hermione-speak. "I'm not too sure if I can ring all that often, but what I wanted to ask is if it would be possible for me to come visit you for a few days. I have a project I really need your help on."

After what seemed like the normal-for-this-conversation pause, she again sounded puzzled when she asked, "What sort of project, Harry, is it something for school?"

Harry thought for a moment how to answer. "Erm, no, not exactly for school; sort of in addition to school work. In a way it has to do with that little adventure at the end of term, only different. That's why I need to see you. I can't talk about it on the phone and it's too complicated to owl to you."

He could almost hear the wheels turning and gears meshing in her head over those statements, and knew she'd never get close to the right answer. At least he hoped she'd never think of something like that. Her mind tended to be a bit too logical for that kind of scenario to creep in.

Finally, still sounding perplexed, she asked, "So what did you have in mind?"

"A couple of possibilities," he dropped his voice hoping Aunt Petunia wouldn't hear, "since we know Uncle Vernon wouldn't take me anywhere unless it was painful for me. I was thinking that either your parents would have to come get me, or I could take the train or the Knight Bus. I think we'll need a couple of days, at least, to go over some, erm, information I got just this morning and some ideas I have. Of course, that's whenever it would be convenient for me to visit and if my staying over would be alright with your parents." Harry couldn't help sweetening the pie, so to speak, by adding, "And believe me, you are going to find this more than a little fascinating." He smirked to himself, knowing what that would do to her.

There was the usual silence on the other end of the line for a few moments, though he thought he could hear her breathing quicken. "Harry James Potter!" She gave the expected exasperated response, though he could hear a smile in her tone as well. "You know exactly what that kind of statement does to me! Now I won't be able to concentrate on anything until you get here… you… you… rapscallion you!" Then she laughed lightly, "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Harry affected his most innocent tone as he replied, "Hermione Jean Granger, would I, your best friend for nearly two years, do that to you? I'm hurt, I'm beyond hurt, I'm…" but he couldn't hold in the snicker that escaped.

She laughed, "Yes, Potter, you would. And you'd better make it up to me as soon as you get here. I expect a big hug and a sincere apology – and all that luscious and lovely information to chew on." Then she laughed again. They hadn't teased like this very much, in the nearly two years they'd been friends, but it was always fun when they did. "Alright, look," she went on, "can you hold on for a few minutes or would it be better if I rang you back? My parents haven't left for their surgery yet so I can ask now, but it might take a short while, parents being parents and all that. By the way, Harry, what's the night bus? Is that a new thing?"

He chuckled, "Sorry, I forgot you probably wouldn't know about that yet." He went on to explain what it was, how it was summoned, and how absolutely _thrilling_ a ride it was. He added, "I would think it's like a good roller coaster ride, except the chairs aren't held down, so you often fall over in them. Bit of a pain, really. Oh, and it's the Knight," he spelled the word, "Bus, and it's kinda cool actually, just weird like most of the Wizarding World."

She laughed and agreed with him about how bizarre the society they'd been drawn into could be. "Weird is an understatement," she added, laughing more.

"Er, anyway, it might be best if you ring back, Hermione." He then quietly added, so Petunia wouldn't hear, "Don't want to run up the charge too much. Uncle Vernon might have a heart attack or something."

She snickered impishly on the other end of the line for a second, then calmly said she'd do that and they rang off. Harry went back to the kitchen and told Petunia about the call. All the while he fervently hoped The Barge would follow her usual routine of not returning from the loo for at least another ten minutes or so. With nothing better to do, the young wizard went and waited in the lounge with Dudley who was still totally focused on cartoons. The resident killer whale didn't bother to acknowledge his presence.

Harry thought some of the cartoon scenes were funny, but couldn't help equating most of them to magic. He'd seen similar things done to, and by, some of his classmates on accident. He snorted softly, as he recalled some of the disasters Seamus had caused for himself. It seemed his roommate was always trying to turn something into some form of alcoholic beverage – always with unfortunate results. Those episodes made him wonder if his friend was destined to become an alcoholic. His future memories told him he'd not seen much of the other man after Hogwarts as he'd had seldom been to Ireland.

Mostly, while he awaited his best friend's call, he thought over the things he remembered from the future, and about what would likely happen if he changed key events. He added some thoughts to his notes, which thankfully went unnoticed by a totally-focused-on-the-telly Dudders.

Although it seemed like hours, it was just a bit over five minutes before the phone rang and Harry leapt for it. He heard his aunt answer it in the kitchen, and then say "One moment, he's right here." She looked around the corner to nod brusquely at him.

He put the phone to his ear and said, "Hermione?" then heard the click of the other extension being returned to its wall mount.

"Yes, Harry, it's me," she sounded breathless. "You won't believe this, but my parents said yes, and then Daddy said that if it's acceptable with your aunt we could come down and pick you up this afternoon around four." By way of explanation, she added, "They only have appointments until one on Fridays. They'd like to see where you live and to meet your aunt. They can bring you back next Wednesday if it is alright for you to stay that long, and that means we get five whole days! Isn't that super?"

He had to keep from chuckling at his excited friend, who sounded as if she'd gotten all that out in one breath. However, Harry was completely caught off guard. He'd expected it to be no sooner than the next day, Saturday, and to be returned by Sunday. This would be much longer than he'd dared hope for. "Sounds great, Hermione," he said tentatively. Then he thought, _"This could work out well; very well in fact."_ Stifling a wicked laugh that wanted to surface, he told his friend, "Let me just talk with my aunt before I say anything more."

"Sure, Harry; I expected that." She sounded like she was still smiling.

"Alright, hang on then, please," he asked, while carrying the cordless phone into the kitchen.

"Er, Aunt Petunia?" At an acknowledging nod of her head, though she didn't look up, he went on, "They'd like to come get me this afternoon at around four and have me stay until Wednesday, if you wouldn't mind too terribly me staying that long. They'd also like to meet you when they pick me up. Is all that alright with you?"

She frowned and asked, "Yes, fine, all of it, but can they be a bit more specific about the time next Wednesday?" Her tone was not angry, just businesslike.

Putting the phone to his ear, Harry asked about the time next week, and could hear Hermione talking to someone in the background; it sounded like her dad answered. Then she came back on and said, "Please ask if mid-afternoon around three, would be alright." He could hear the smile in her voice, and he smiled softly as well.

Trying not to giggle at all the details he was having to relate back and forth, he asked, "Is three alright, Aunt Petunia?"

Her eyes had still never left her magazine. She replied, "Quite, actually; I have to take Marge to the train that morning and will do a bit of shopping while I'm out. So three should be just right, I think. And as for your chores, I believe you got both gardens all up to snuff yesterday, so a few days away will not be a bother. Might not hurt to check them this morning, just in case you missed anything. I want your assurance you will get right to work on them when you return, though."

Harry did his best to hide his surprise at her relatively neutral tone, as he quickly agreed to what she demanded. Speaking into the phone, as he walked back to the hall, he said, "Okay, Hermione, that's all fine with Aunt Petunia."

He could hear the smile still in her voice, when she replied, "That's wonderful, Harry, I just know we'll have a fantastic time. Be sure to bring a swimsuit because we have a pool. I think we can manage to have a lot of fun, besides working on your project."

"That would be brilliant," he was also still smiling because of his enthusiastic friend. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Petunia wasn't overtly listening. Very softly he added "It's just that, er, the thing is… I don't have a swimsuit. I suppose if I could go to Gringotts somehow, I could get some money for that and some other things I need. All I have right now is about six or seven Galleons and two or three pounds." He looked stealthily over his shoulder again since he'd never trust the woman and didn't want Vernon to find out he had money, even if it was all in the Wizarding World.

He could hear Hermione speaking to her father, and what sounded like an amused reply. She then told Harry, "Dad said they can get you a few things if you need, and you can pay them back when you get a chance to go to Gringotts. Is that alright?" She actually sounded a bit worried.

Hoping to set her mind at ease, he smiled and said, "That's fantastic, Hermione. Please tell your dad I said thanks. I guess I'd better go now. I need to make some notes on some things, and make sure I'm ready to leave when you get here."

She giggled a little, and teased, "Okay, Harry, but you have to explain this new Harry when we get there, the one who takes notes and gets ready ahead of time for things."

He chuckled and said, "That's a lot of what we need to talk about, so you'll get your answers."

"Alright, Harry, bye then. See you this afternoon."

"Bye, Hermione, see ya soon."

As he rang off, he chuckled about the fact that she was **definitely** going to get her explanation. He had fairly accurate confirmation of the future events from his talk with his aunt, so now he needed to make sure he had written down as much detail as he could remember. Different things kept coming to mind all the time, so he decided he needed to get a small notebook that fit in a pocket to carry around where he could jot things down to add to his notes and the outline later on.

He did have a few quid in his money stash, which he'd managed to squirrel away. The Dursleys almost never gave him money. However, occasionally over the past two summers, in what he reckoned were lapses in memory, Aunt Petunia had let him keep the change when he went to the grocer's for her. It was never more than a few pence, a half pound at most, but it had added up because he rarely spent any of it.

Back up in his room, Harry began writing furiously as he put down more of the ideas he had. They were coming quickly and somewhat randomly, so the young wizard stayed lost in thought, scribbling away, for quite some time.

He decided on waiting to contact Dobby until he was at the Grangers', so as not to risk disturbing Aunt Petunia and getting things all bollixed up. He recalled how badly Kreacher would frighten and revolt the Dursleys three years from now which did give him an evil thought or two. However, he also realized it was not the fault of his relatives he'd been dropped on their doorstep. That was something that could be laid solely at the feet of the MOB.

Harry now knew the elderly wizard had defied hiss parents will, and used his position with the Wizengamot to smooth it over. Other wicked thoughts, started coming to Harry's mind then concerning said MOB, so he made some additional notes on a separate page.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

As she hung up the phone, still rather mystified by the apparent changes in her friend, Hermione couldn't resist the huge smile that plastered itself on her face. Harry was coming to visit her house for five whole days! She was ecstatic; she'd never before had a friend come to stay over like this, at least not since she'd been about eight. After that she'd gotten so involved in her studies that her childhood friends had drifted away with other interests.

But now she had a friend to spend several days with, and not just any friend, but a boy. And not just any boy, but her best friend in the whole world: **The** Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, who conquered Dark Lords, defeated possessed teachers bare handed, and slew basilisks with a sword. He was a real life, wonderful, down to earth hero; and he was kind and gentle; and best of all he was **her** best friend. Besides, he was positively dreamy…

Hermione shook her head, _"Now where did **that** come from?"_ she wondered. _"He does have the most beautiful green eyes, and that cute lopsided smile, and he's such a nice boy, so caring, and sometimes so maddeningly daring as well."_ Her thoughts wandered like that as she ambled, in a bit of a daze, back into the dining room where her parents were just getting ready to leave. She stopped just inside the doorway of the room, confused over the thoughts in her head.

She'd been going through every positive and negative about her dear friend. Realizing where she was, she suddenly slapped herself on the side of the head and said aloud, "Okay brain, reboot." Of course, her brain refused to cooperate.

"Problems, dear daughter?" her father quipped.

Hermione stood there with her thoughts whirling, her mouth moving silently and not really seeing her parents. She realized, suddenly, that she had started having thoughts, _those kinds of thoughts,_ about her two best friends over the past few months. But they had only been that, just aimless thoughts and feelings. She didn't understand why all of a sudden the idea of her very best friend was causing her heart to speed up and a tightening in her bra and… down below… That was just totally uncalled for!

Her friendship with Harry had always been much more steady and fulfilling than the one with Ron, but she also knew that Harry didn't have feelings for her; or at least she was reasonably sure he didn't. Why now, all of a sudden, was the thought of spending time alone with him making her excited in **that** way? She'd always sort of thought of him as a brother figure; the brother she'd never have. And now? Now she wasn't at all sure.

Realistically, the bright young witch knew they were way too young for any kind of deep or permanent relationship. But she did want her best friend to know she was a girl; it was something she wasn't always sure of with the two boys.

So lost in thought, was the bushy haired genius that she jumped at the hand on her shoulder and her mother's voice asking softly, "Hermione? Are you alright, dear?"

The girl's hand flew to her chest, and she gasped. "Oh, Mum, you startled me. Sorry, I was thinking about something."

Her mum chuckled and said, "That, my dear, was rather obvious. I can't say I've seen you that far gone, unless you had your nose in a book, for… well, ever."

Hermione grinned sheepishly and saw the knowing, sympathetic smile on her mum's face. The well known expression told her the woman had a fair idea of the topic of internal debate raging within her mind. "Mum, I think I need your help with something. Could we talk for a bit before we leave to go get Harry this afternoon?"

Dianne Granger chuckled and slipped her arm around her daughter. Softly, she said, "Of course, dear, we can talk when I get home. Perhaps you and I can have lunch on the patio while your dad does whatever it is that men do when preparing for _long_ eighty or ninety mile round trips." She winked at Hermione and grinned maliciously at her husband.

Jack huffed melodramatically, and sighed in an over the top manner. Feigning grievous injury, he cried, "Oh woe is me, mine wife has slandered me. Furthermore, whatever shall I do whilst the women in my life cast me to the wolves and bar me from shelter and sustenance."

Dianne said, dryly, "You could always have lunch in front of the telly, like you always do on Friday."

He smirked and stepped over to kiss his little angel on the head, noting that she wasn't so little any longer. Why hadn't he noticed that when she'd come home two weeks ago? It being his turn to get lost in thought, he wandered out to the garage, grabbing up his briefcase as he went down the hall.

Jack waited in mild bemusement for his wife, who joined him in the car only a few minutes later. He looked at her lovely face and, as he often did, marvelled that this gorgeous, intelligent woman had deigned to grace him with her undying love. He truly felt blessed.

Smiling softly she said, "She's not so much a little girl any longer as a young woman now, dear," once more proving how perceptive she was.

"Right you are, love. I suppose we should put bars on Harry's bedroom door before he gets here so we can lock him in." He started to snicker, but then a look of horror came over him. Proving where some of his daughter's mannerisms came from he smacked himself on the forehead as he started backing out of the garage. "Didn't Hermione tell us they had him locked in his room last summer, and those Weasley boys rescued him?

"Yes, she certainly did. I wonder if we could…" she trailed off at his look of understanding and agreement as he turned back forward from backing the car out.

He shifted the car's transmission from reverse to first gear, easing down the driveway to the street. When they were moving toward the town centre a few moments later, he mused, "We could take some things along and try to get a bit of evidence, if possible." She agreed wholeheartedly and they discussed the possibilities on the brief drive to their surgery.

Meanwhile, Hermione was still a tad befuddled over her feelings for Harry. She wanted to be his best friend, and her parents had told her more than once that best friends made the best spouses. "Cripes," she muttered, "now I've got us married and I don't even know if he could like me that way." In her heart of hearts she sort of hoped he would some day.

She had thought the same about Ron on occasion. The thing with Ron, though, was his tendency to be jealous, especially of Harry, at nearly every turn. She had often wondered how the two boys could still be friends. The redhead had a very fragile ego and seemed to always resent his older brothers and even Harry at times. Besides that, he had atrocious manners, especially at table. There was no telling how many times she'd mentioned, or outright told him, that it was impolite to speak with your mouth full. She had even handed him napkins to use a few times which he always seemed to set aside in favour of his shirtsleeve. And then there was his narrow range in topics of conversation: Quidditch, chess, and complaining about classes, schoolwork, and people he didn't like seemed to be it, unless another person brought up something else. Add to that his penchant for arguing with her at every turn, and he just didn't seem a very desirable boy right now.

She laughed aloud at herself. Was she just picking on Ron in absentia because the thought of Harry had her hormones buzzing? "_Possible_," she thought, "_but then again, he does seem to have a lot more faults than Harry, or at least… a lot more things to find fault with_. _On the other hand, Harry might share some of those imperfections but he's much more gracious than Ron could ever be."_ Where Ron was outspoken about so many things, Slytherins, the bloody Chudley Cannons, teachers, anyone who annoyed him, and a myriad of other things, Harry was quiet and most frequently understated his opinions. She had often thought it was shyness, but now she was beginning to think that Harry might be so grateful to have a best mate, one Ronald Weasley, that he just didn't openly disagree with the git. She wondered if Ron would ever be as good a friend to Harry as Harry was to Ron, and seriously doubted it.

She stayed lost in thought as she wandered around the back garden for a while, absently admiring her mother's skills with plants. That was one thing Harry and her mum would have in common, she thought. He was quite good in Herbology, nearly as good as Neville in fact. She wondered if he'd enjoy her mum's flowers and flowering shrubs. She was fairly certain he would, and that he'd likely be out here pulling weeds while he was visiting, which he had told her he had to do every summer at his… relatives' house.

It suddenly occurred to her he had never once referred to the place as home, and that sent a jolt of reality through her. She wondered how any adults could treat a child as badly as Harry seemed to have been treated all his life by those people.

She had been thinking she was calm enough to go in and try to bury herself in a book for a while. But now that she was good and angry for him, along with having her hormones sizzling over him, the bushy haired genius threw up her hands in frustration. Running into the house, she sped up to her room and deftly exchanged her clothes for a swimsuit. Still on emotional overload, and not wanting to cry out her frustrations into a pillow, she bounded down the stairs, out the back door, and took a running leap for the pool.

Twenty minutes and a great many laps later a calmer and out of breath young woman exited the pool and buried her face in her towel. It was still a little cool out, but she was warm enough from her extended swim not to feel it. Thankfully, she felt much more composed and rational now as she took stock of what she had to do yet today. Her parents had never burdened her with a tremendous amount of work around the house, but she did have certain chores. That it was best to get those out of the way before they went to pick up Harry was a given. It would be good to spend the evening with him, and most likely her parents as well, uninterrupted with mundane chores. So as to keep busy, she decided to do those and some things which were not, strictly speaking, her normal duties.

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Back in Little Whinging, Harry had made it upstairs to his room well before _Aunt _ _Barge_ vacated the 'throne room'. He laughed soflly over his new nicknames for her and the loo. He hoped he'd never have to use that particular W. C. again. He'd already decided to pack everything he owned so he would not have to return here if he could avoid the MOB's clutches for the next few summers. So-called blood protections be damned! He was sick and tired of putting up with the bullshit of living here.

Another decision inspired by the future memories was that he'd need to get a solicitor to help him handle things like changing his legal guardians to someone who actually liked him. He hoped he could find one who worked in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds. Then he recalled from his future memories that there was one who, coincidentally, was a member of the currently inactive Order of the Phoenix. He wondered if the man could be subverted to Harry's own "crowd", though he hadn't come up with a cool name yet like Dumbledore had. He'd have to think on that, since he wanted to build a cadre of supporters who could and would help him try to head off the second war.

He snorted as he thought about Dumbledore's mostly ineffectual private club. It had certainly proven that most wizards lacked any skill of logical assessment and the ability to think outside the box. Probably the easiest and most obvious choice for moving Harry in the summer after his sixth year, before all hell broke loose, was to use muggle transport. Instead, they had tried flying which had worked before. That debacle had ended with disastrous results.

He shook his head then and knew he was sporting a rather devious and feral grin as he thought of some other things he could possibly do to derail certain events. He had a bit of time so he made a few more entries in the notebook while the ideas were fresh. He didn't dawdle over it since he wanted to be all packed before _The Barge_ got it in her head that he needed to be under her watchful eye and working his butt off for the rest of the day. He laughed again, letting out what he'd had to stifle downstairs when he'd come up with the nickname for the large woman, and over how disappointed she'd be not to have him here to torment.

After getting his trunk fully packed with what few belongings he had, and leaving most of his old Dudley hand-me-downs behind, he started making lists. One of those was the names of all the people he thought he could get on his side. Hermione was a given, Sirius another, if he could get him cleared. He was pretty sure he could figure out a way to ensure Pettigrew didn't get away this time. The first thing needing done on that front was to convince Ron of the rat's true identity, or at least someone who could do something about it. He then spent several more minutes carefully thinking over all the people he knew, both adults and teens, and continuing to list those who would be likely to join him in avoiding what had happened before.

A thought occurred to him as he mused over people he knew at school. There was a really good way he could get a great many people working with him a lot sooner than the other memories told. He could do it quite within the rules and under the MOB's overlong nose. His feral grin got even wider and nastier, and had anyone been there to see him they'd surely have thought he'd gone dark for that few moments.

Not that he cared any longer what most people thought. Truly, there were only a few who fit that category, and he could count them on one hand. The pleasant thoughts of those he really cared about brought a true smile to his countenance then. Unfortunately, The Barge picked that moment to storm into his room.

She took one look at his face and growled, "We'll wipe that nasty smirk off your face, Boy!" He'd never understood why when Vernon and Marge called him boy, it always sounded like it was capitalized.

Harry was truly surprised at her coming into his room. While she'd always been nasty to him, she had rarely sought him out. He chalked it up to him being older and her being nastier than ever this time. He couldn't help, however, the absolutely shocked look he had at that moment.

Marge smirked, her piggy eyes lighting in glee. Harry had never before noticed how alike her eyes and Dud's were. She rocked on the balls of her feet and practically crowed, "Vernon left a list of things you'll be working on. Put that trash of yours in the bin, and get downstairs so I can make sure you do what's intended."

Harry was a bit gobsmacked at the whole scene, but put his notebook away in his desk and walked out ahead of her. She followed closely behind grumbling about him not ever doing as he was told because he hadn't thrown his things in the bin as she'd said to. Harry muttered back about not wasting things. He was sure she heard him, but kept his face schooled impassively so his smirk didn't show. Fortunately she seemed to let that slide. He reckoned she was satisfied thinking he'd be working his ass off while she was here.

Downstairs she presented the list which was, naturally, quite long. Her tone was positively vindictive, as she said, "You are to get to work on this as soon as you have Petunia's kitchen clean each and every day until I leave. I **expect** you to have **finished** it by then."

As he scanned down the list he could see it seemed to be prioritized and sussed he would have had to work his way down it over the next few days, **if** he was going to be here. Deciding he didn't want to listen to a bunch of blather for the next several hours, he just nodded at his nightmare non-aunt and headed for the back door. Of course, he had to hide the ever increasing desire to smirk, because in reality he would not be here from that afternoon until after she left. For that matter, he intended to _never_ return here, despite what the MOB thought was for the best and "for the greater good". He was coming to really hate that phrase.

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It was nearly two and Hermione had begun to fret because her parents were normally home by half past one. She let out a sigh of relief when she heard the electric garage door opener start up. She met them as they came in from the garage talking about the patients they'd had that morning which they always did after work. She had often listened in, gleaning small amounts of information about their work and the practice of dentistry in general. This supplemented the reading she had done on the subject over the years. Like a great many things, she found the subject fascinating.

Normally she would not have interrupted their bantering talk, which often seemed to centre on comparing who'd had the toughest case. This time, however, she approached them and they left off as both hugged the stuffing out of her. The three of them made their way into the kitchen where Hermione already had lunch prepared, talking over how their respective days had gone so far and making small inside jokes. Then each carried some things to the patio table so it was all done in one trip. Settled in around the table, they continued talking over how things were going at the surgery and such, as they poured drinks and made up their plates from what Hermione had prepared.

After a few minutes, her mum said, "Love, we'd like to talk to you about Harry for a bit when you and I get done with our talk. Would you mind?"

"Sure, Mum, but what about him?" She was nervous they might have had second thoughts about him visiting.

Her dad broke in then, saying, "Honey, he seems to have had a difficult home life, from what you've told us, so we'd like to hear all you know about it."

Hermione's other thoughts about Harry were pushed to the back of her mind as those memories and concerns jumped to the front, making her a bit distressed. A few times in the past two years she had wondered if she should say something to someone about her friend's home. "Mum, Dad," she asked, "could we talk about that first, please?"

Dianne and Jack looked at each other in surprise over the troubled look on the girl's face and the serious tone of voice. Her mum spoke for them, "Sure, dear, if that's what you want; if you think that to be the more important topic."

"I really do, Mum, thanks."

Surprisingly, Hermione, found she was quite hungry despite her internal conflict over telling her parents what she knew; and that was not to mention having been on an emotional roller coaster ride all morning. Her parents talked of things at the surgery while Hermione ate in silence for a time, nearly wolfing down her sandwich a la Ronald. She self-consciously slowed after catching her mum's inquisitive glance at one point.

The young witch was dreading this conversation in one way, and looking forward to it in another. She knew it would be best to tell her parents everything she could recall and find out if they could possibly help her best friend. However, it was difficult because she knew she risked alienating Harry over it.

Having largely sated her appetite, Hermione wondered about how to start. She'd thought a lot about it this at times, but hadn't ever come up with a good way to broach the subject. Now was the moment of truth, so to speak.

She slowly chewed the last bite of sandwich, swallowed and took a sip of her drink, then all but blurted out, "Mum, Dad, I'm almost certain Harry has been abused by his relatives."

She paused a moment, as her mum's eyebrows rose and her father leaned back in his chair. Then she continued on more calmly, "I know they have money, they always drive a nice car. I've seen Harry loading his things in it, without any help by the way. They and their son always seem to be dressed rather nicely, but Harry wears what appear to be his cousin's cast-offs. His cousin is immensely overweight and taller than Harry, so the Muggle clothes he wears never fit him because they're way too big; and besides that they are always worn and tattered. There are some other things not quite right there…"

Jack knew he was scowling, but couldn't help it. If there was anything that brought out his greatest ire, it was child abuse; well, aside from anyone mucking with his family. He caught Hermione looking worriedly at him and his wife, so he couldn't help but smile supportively at her. He noticed Dianne had the same reactions; first anger then encouragement.

Absently, he noted, not for the first time, how his little girl was blooming into her mother's loveliness. Jack was a very happy man to have two such wonderful, intelligent women in his life. That their daughter took after both of them in the brains department, and her mother in the graceful beauty department, pleased him to no end.

Having broken the ice, and seeing the disquiet followed by smiles of support from her parents, Hermione correctly interpreted the anger as not being directed at her. Now settled a bit, she continued on with her many other concerns. "If I remember correctly," she blushed at her dad's snort of amusement, "Harry sort of let slip once that his bedroom had been the cupboard under the stairs before he started Hogwarts." She looked down at her hands not wanting to be distracted by the very disturbed looks on their faces. "He always seems to get sort of depressed when the train from school gets back to London at the end of the year. It's like he doesn't want to go there because he knows how awful it is."

"Just the day before we came home he told Ron and me he'd asked Professor McGonagall to help him talk to the headmaster about not going back there this summer. We were there when she told him he'd been turned down, and the headmaster didn't even talk to him. I don't know what Harry told Professor McGonagall, but she seemed quite concerned about him. She also said something about how he had to return there every summer because of some enchantment tied to his mother's sacrificing herself to save his life."

"Even worse," she continued on, "is that in our first year he was very skinny when we started school. Ron told me he looked like he'd hardly eaten at all last summer when they took him to the Burrow. I think Ron was able to pry out of him that they had only fed him things like cold tinned soup a couple times a day, or crusty, dried-out bread and a lump of cheese. And… and honestly, he's the smallest boy in our year right now. He's even shorter than some of the people a year behind us."

Speaking softly, since she seemed on the verge of tears, Jack asked, "Did we understand your letter correctly that there were bars on his window and locks on the outside of the bedroom door last summer?" She only nodded as tears started coursing down her cheeks.

Jack and Dianne both stared at their daughter in revolted shock over what she had related. It sounded to be considerably worse than they had thought. However, both moved to their daughter's sides, offering comfort and reassurance. Dianne gently wiped the tears from Hermione's face with a hanky, and they both cuddled her for a few moments.

Over their daughter's head the two dentists shared a long look, a silent message passing between them. It was a certainty Hermione would never make up such things, nor even embellish them. If anything, she tended to understate when it came to saying bad things about people. They also knew that what young Harry was experiencing in that home was probably far, far worse than she knew about. For their dental licenses they had undergone required training on how to spot child abuse, as well as having to attend annual seminars on the subject.

Hermione blew her nose on the hanky from her mum and looked up at them, having regained her composure somewhat, so they moved back to their own chairs. She asked, almost pleading, "Is there any way we can help him, maybe fix it so he doesn't have to go back there?" She knew she probably sounded like a little girl with how she'd said that, but didn't care. She wanted to help her friend.

Jack was thoughtful for a moment, then asked Hermione, "Sweetie, do you have any idea why your school's headmaster has any influence whatsoever over where Harry lives? I wasn't aware that was within the purview of a school administrator. Unless, that is, things are considerably different in that world."

Thinking that over for a few moments, she sighed and looked up to say, "I don't know, Daddy. It just seems like he's always had control over Harry's life. Now you mention it, that doesn't seem right, even in the Wizarding World. I don't know of anyone else he controls that way."

Dianne added, "I think we should try to find out what we can about the situation, but first your dad and I had some ideas we'd like to run by you."

Jack outlined the plan he and his wife had cooked up on the way to work that morning. Dianne, he noticed, was nodding her approval with a devilish gleam in her eye. He smiled likewise and winked conspiratorially at the lovely women in his life. He concluded his comments with, "I think we can almost guarantee Harry won't have to go back there if he's willing to talk about it. Here's the hard part though, Hermione, we have to get him to be willing to do so. Often kids from abused homes find it very difficult to _rat out_ their families because of fears of reprisal."

Hermione snorted, and said, "Do you know he never calls them his family? He calls them his relatives, and I've never heard him refer to that place as home. I swear he considers Hogwarts as more of a home. He hates to leave there, and can't wait to get back. He's not once left for Christmas or Easter since we started Hogwarts."

Dianne stated, "That may help a lot, love. If he's that distanced from his… relatives, then it may be easier to get him talk about it and to get him away from them permanently. Do you know if he has any other relations?"

After thinking a moment, she replied, "No, Mum, I'm sure he doesn't, at least none he seems to know of. His mother was his Aunt's only sister and his grandparents on both sides of his family are gone. I don't think his dad had any siblings at all."

Jack interjected again, "Sounds like it might work out then. We can get him in touch with a solicitor on Monday who should be able to help him navigate the quagmire of children's services."

"That's great, dad. Thank you both for caring about my friend like this. I know you only met him once last summer, but he really is one of the true good guys of the world. I've told you about what he's gotten into the past two years, and he really is a hero, though if you tell him I told you that it could ruin our friendship forever." She mock pouted so they knew she was joking which got a small a laugh from them.

"Alright then," Jack smiled at the ladies, "I'll go find something else to do for a bit and let you lovelies have some time alone."

They both thanked him as he took most of the lunch debris back inside, and could hear him whistling as he moved about the house. Hermione then told her mum what had been on her mind.

Dianne had already decided to have this chat before Hermione went back to school this fall, so she was prepared and now seemed like the perfect time. "Honey," she said softly, "it's time we talked about a few things that I only touched on before. You've hit the age where boys become more interesting. Unfortunately, those boys will remain totally clueless for a bit longer yet. Don't despair, they'll come around eventually. We women just have to wait for them to get to it."

Hermione chuckled over her mum's portrayal of boys, thinking how accurate it was; boys were totally clueless about many things in her opinion. Mother and daughter talked for about forty minutes, before going inside to get ready to leave. Hermione reflected that now, after their talk, she felt a lot more confident about handling her feelings for Harry while he visited.

As she and her mum got to the top of the stairs Hermione asked, "Should I call Harry and tell him to bring all his stuff. I doubt he has all that much, but it might be better if he was warned."

"Hmm," her mother mused, as they paused in the hallway. "I think it best not to bother his relatives. If they're as bad as you seem to think, it could muck up the whole thing. Best to hope he's packed most of his things, and if not then you and dad can quickly help him get what's left. I really don't want him to have to go back there if we can help it."

"Thanks, Mum," Hermione said happily, "you two are the best." She followed that up with a quick hug.

"You're welcome, dear." Dianne said, as she patted her daughter's back. With a conspiratorial wink and grin, she said, "Now let's go see which outfit might look good on you for the afternoon." She was proud of her how her daughter was growing up and wanted her to look as good for her friend and his relatives as possible, which she knew Hermione would have insisted on anyway.

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Despite that the gardens were nearly perfect, Harry had spent the rest of the morning in both the back and front gardens mowing, pruning, and hauling off the debris to the bins at the rear of the back garden. He'd used a shovel and a plastic trash bag to pick up Ripper's huge leavings, which were numerous no matter that he'd picked it up the day before. "Never knew a dog could shit that much," he muttered. Then chuckling to himself, mused "I wonder who'll get the honour of cleanup after today."

As he was finishing up the first few things from that stupid list, the sorry excuse for a dog came bounding out the back door, no doubt egged on by The Barge. It was growling and barking that stupid snorting bark at Harry, apparently thinking to make the boy run up a tree again or something. Harry, however, just stood his ground and glared at the mongrel mutt. He'd faced a Troll, a giant three headed dog, Voldemort twice, enormous spiders, and a monstrous Basilisk, all within the past two years. Ripper didn't stand a chance of frightening him any longer. Besides which, he was sick to death of the stupid animal and its stupider owner. The bulldog pulled up short a few feet away as if totally surprised that he didn't run off. Harry just continued to glare. As if sensing the waves of loathing and disgust coming from the boy, the aged dog backed off and, whining some, waddled around the side of the house where it lifted its leg and proceeded to pee on one of Petunias prized Hydrangea bushes. Harry stifled a laugh at that.

Having finished what Harry considered a good morning's work, he went to the hosepipe and rinsed off his hands and arms, getting them as clean as he could without soap. Drying them on his baggy shirt, he made it to the back door where he intended to go in for lunch. However, The Barge met him there looking furious.

"What did you do to my poor Ripper?" She demanded loudly. Harry could see Petunia cringing which he was sure was because of the huge woman's carrying voice, and over what the neighbours would think.

Harry had to pull out his best acting to date so as not to tell the old bag what he thought of her and her stupid dog. To his credit, he merely looked confused as he asked, "I'm sorry, Aunt Marge, but whatever do you mean?

"You know bloody well what I mean, Boy. My poor old Ripper came back in the house just now whimpering like he'd been beaten. If I find you with so much as a tiny twig raised toward my Ripper you will regret it till your dying day, Boy."

"Yes, Aunt Marge. I wouldn't dream of harming a hair on Ol' Ripper's body. I honestly don't know what might have scared him. There is a big tomcat in the neighbourhood; that might have been it." Harry was lying through his teeth, and though he hated doing that as a rule desperate times called for desperate measures. He deemed this to be one of those times. In fact, anytime he had to deal with The Barge was a good time in his book.

She looked at him sceptically, as if she knew he was lying, and snorted. "Well, be that as it may, Boy, what are you doing in the house. You've plenty more work to do."

Harry replied honestly, "I was coming in to get some lunch, if that's alright."

"What are you on about, Boy?" Ms Immense 2003 inquired sternly. "You don't need to be eating this kind and wonderful family out of house and home. You get back out there and get back to work."

Harry was gobsmacked at that. Even Petunia wasn't this harsh with him. He was also incensed over the "eating them out of house and home comment", considering that Dudley was at that moment stuffing his face with wieners. The buns were dripping mustard, catsup, and relish down the new shirt Petunia had bought him especially for Marge's visit. But before the young wizard could open his mouth, Petunia came hurrying over, apparently intent on making sure Harry didn't completely blow his top. She obviously had reckoned that certain incidents with Harry were accidental magic, having grown up with a witch. She had also, it would seem, equated accidental magic with strong emotions, especially anger.

His aunt said, "Now, Marge, we can hardly expect the boy to get much done on an empty stomach." She grabbed a wrinkled looking apple, a pair of bread heels and a couple of cold wieners and thrust them into Harry's hands. Turning back to The Barge, she added, "After all, what would the neighbours think if they saw him getting _too_ thin over the summer. We have to keep up appearances, after all."

Marge only grunted and lumbered back to the kitchen table where she palmed a large sandwich and took an enormous bite. She smirked at Harry as she chewed, before he pulled the door shut. He'd had to get out before he retched at the sight. In only a few days, he'd had about all he could take of that bitch. He snorted as it occurred to him he was being unfair to dogs everywhere.

Harry plopped down in the shade of a back garden tree near the rear fence, and started on his pitiful lunch. He'd had worse, and less, so he didn't think too much about it. At times like this, though, he did terribly miss Hogwarts' meals.

More than anything, he was greatly looking forward to visiting Hermione and, hopefully, never having to return here ever again. He wanted to be free from these infernal gits and from the other infernal git, aka the MOB. If only he could get the force of law on _his_ side for a change he'd be able to do what he needed to. Secure in thinking he could, he decided that being free was a really nice way to look at how his life could turn out one day. He munched on his scant lunch barely noticing it while his thoughts roamed over the possibilities, and a certain bushy haired witch.

HPHP More to come soon HPHP

A/N's: The chapter title is from the Animals' song We Gotta Get Outa This Place. In case you don't know, a black mamba is a very deadly snake found in Africa. The Granger parents are named for a John Cougar Mellencamp song, Jack and Dianne. Recently I was rereading Rae Carson's wonderful Harry Gets Even story arc on fanfiction(dot)net. She used the name Aunt Barge in that, so a big nod goes to her. I thought I had come up with that all on my own, but it must have stuck in my subconscious from reading that some months back. Weird… makes me wonder what else could be stuck in there. Scary thought, eh?

I always take a moment here to express my undying gratitude to the guys who make me look so good… er the stories look so good. My Brit picker and beta beyond measure is Tumshie1960; you should go read his stories too on ff.n. Mike sweeps up all the pieces we drop and helps me put the puzzle back together. Randy helps me polish it all up. Thanks guys. And **thank** **you**, dear reader, for reading and reviewing.

HT 02/08


	3. Chapter 02 Leaving Little Whinging

The Inimitably Inspired, Indubitably Irreverent Harry Potter Do-Over

By

Herman Tumbleweed

**Disclaimer:** Full quasi-legal disclaimer in Prologue. Howsomever, if you are still thinking that that any fanfic author owns the rights to the world they are emulating, let's get together. I know a really nice piece of beachfront property near Cheyenne Wyoming that might interest you.

A/N: Part of the original idea for this is from a ficlet by Loralee1 called The Dream. I take full responsibility for whatever insanity comes after the wee bit that was her idea. Look, can I help it if plot bunnies like to mate near me. It's thoroughly disgusting to wa… er, never mind.

A great big thank you to all of you who have reviewed and to those who have added me to their alert and favorites lists. I truly am honored and greatly appreciate that you like my efforts.

**Chapter Two: Leaving Little Whinging in the Broad Daylight **

Hermione was pleased with her and her mum's selection of clothing. She'd bought the new dress, along with a couple of others, just last week because she hoped to have time to visit some museums and such when they went on holiday to France in a few weeks. For that, she'd wanted nice, but simple and comfortable dresses to wear. Now, this one turned out to be the perfect combination of innocence and demure self confidence that she needed for today. Sometimes her foresight amazed her and she chuckled to herself as she thought she might have a touch of seer in her.

The dress itself was a simple off white summer thing with a bit of lacy white ruffle around the peasant blouse type top. There was thin embroidery around the top and the bottom hem, with a matching sash around the gathered waist. It clearly showed that she was no longer a little girl, while still being rather conservative. The hem came just to the tops of her knees.

Her mum had gone to also dress for the trip, wanting to wear something other than what she'd worn to work that morning. So, Hermione had a few minutes to admire how the dress looked and wondered if Harry would like it, or if he'd even notice for that matter. She twirled once around in front of her full length closet mirror. She liked the total effect she and her mum had achieved.

Her accessories were a simple, thin gold chain necklace, a thin gold watch, and sensible low, white strappy heels. This gave her an extra inch of height without making it hard to walk. As well, the lift showed off her legs which were filling out rather nicely with all the swimming, not to mention stair climbing at Hogwarts.

They'd done her hair by brushing it out and pinning the sides with lovely little butterfly barrettes. It now cascaded down her back in waves rather than her normal bushy haired appearance. Taking one last look at herself in the mirror, she grinned and was rather sure Harry would have to notice she was a girl.

Her mum came a collected her, and in a few minutes they were on the way. Although it took only forty minutes for the drive, to Hermione, in her anticipation, it seemed much longer by the time they pulled off the A3 into Little Whinging. Her dad had found a map of the area on the internet while waiting for the women, and expertly drove to Privet Drive.

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Harry was on the last of the items he was to do daily from the bloody damn list, sweeping the walk and front porch, when a light blue Volvo estate car drew up in front of the house. Seeing his best friend in the back seat, he dropped the broom and dashed toward the street. He thought it interesting that he only made it just over halfway up the front walk when the girl flew into his arms.

Hermione had the door open and was out of the car nearly before it stopped because she'd seen Harry sweeping the porch as they came up the street. She ran, quite unladylike, as he started toward her, and practically threw herself into his arms. Merlin, it felt good to hold him, _"Down girl,"_ she reminded herself, then snickered. Fortunately her mirth was covered by the fact that they were both struggling to stay upright, the force of their meeting having thrown them both off balance.

For a second Harry struggled hard to keep them both upright and not lose his grip around his pretty best friend, but could tell he was losing the battle. So, he did the only thing that made sense at the time: he picked her up and swung her around once. That gave him a chance to recover his balance, removed her teetering from the equation, and channelled their arrested momentum into manageable movement, not that he even thought or cared about all that stuff. Harry was infinitely more interested in the fact that he was holding his best friend, and that said best friend was considerably softer and more pleasant to hold than he remembered. There seemed to be a big difference between holding a girl in Hogwarts robes and one in a Muggle dress.

Naturally, Harry suddenly lifting and swinging her around caused his friend to give out a high pitched squeal during said manoeuvre; but it sounded happy so he wasn't too troubled. When he finished the twirl and regained his balance, he finally set Hermione back on her feet, more or less where she'd been. They held each other a few moments longer, happy to be together again. Unfortunately for Harry a certain portion of his anatomy also noticed how good she felt in his arms and immediately made its presence known. Not wanting to embarrass himself, or her, he slowly released his hold. She also let go, but not before planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

The two stood looking at each other, cheeks slightly coloured, and she said, a bit breathlessly, "That was unexpected." Then she grinned, and giggled a bit.

Harry could feel his cheeks heating more when he replied, "It was the only way I could think of to keep us both on our feet. I… I didn't want to see you get your pretty dress all dirty." He smiled sheepishly, but his eyes never left hers.

"Why thank you, kind sir, I do appreciate your thoughtfulness," she giggled again, and added, "I didn't mind at all, Harry. It's so good to see you again. I've really missed you."

Harry ducked his head for a moment, which gave her the chance to briefly survey his appearance. He looked to have lost a little weight again since school let out, and there also appeared to be a slight bulge in his trousers. As baggy as they were it was hard to tell for sure, though. _"Hmm,"_ she thought, _"I think maybe he __**has**__ noticed I'm a girl"_, which pleased her to no end.

Looking back up, Harry smiled broadly, "I've missed you too, Hermione, very much. It gets so boring here without you to talk to and annoy me into doing things, and to just have fun with. I miss walking by the lake and just hanging out with you… and Ron of course." He mentally slapped himself for almost leaving out their other friend. He was sure his bushy haired friend held no such feelings for him. Truth be told, he didn't know how he felt either. He reckoned it was likely going to take some deep thought on his part to sort out what he felt now from what that other self, or whatever, had done.

"Of course," she replied, "I miss all that too; but mostly I miss just sitting in front of the fire with you and a book… and Ron too, of course, just being together."

Harry wondered at her pause, and if she was having feelings for him after all. He smiled a bit self consciously, considering how he was dressed, and told her, "You look wonderful, and… and I like your dress. It… it looks very nice on you. Your hair looks… erm, very nice too." He couldn't help the stammer after realizing how pretty she really was.

She beamed at him, which was all the reward he needed. She said through her huge smile, "Thank you, I'm glad you like it. I just got it last week." They smiled shyly at one another for a moment then, as her parents walked up. Hermione quickly introduced them and Harry again, and he shook hands with each.

The Grangers were both smiling broadly at the teens, having almost laughed themselves silly at how the two had nearly fallen, while they were exiting from the car considerably more sedately than their daughter had. It had seemed a sure thing that the two youngsters would tip over, until Harry's lightning reflexes saved the pair from crashing to the lawn. It had been a treat for them to watch, and the happy shriek from their daughter lifted their hearts.

Approaching the youngsters, Dianne also noted, with a bit of mirth, that when he stepped away she was very sure he was well aware of Hermione's femininity. But, she was shocked at the state of the clothes he was wearing. Irregardless that he had obviously been doing garden work and other chores, it was a crime that he was dressed the way he was. They looked like something salvaged from the bin at a jumble sale, and she was not happy.

Glancing at Jack, she saw the same thought in his eyes and he looked not well pleased at all, though you'd have to know him well to see that. Outwardly they were both still enjoying the interaction of their daughter and her friend. Inwardly they were each planning to make someone pay.

For his part, Harry liked Hermione's parents right off. They seemed warm and friendly, with no affectations, as they all made small talk and moved toward the door. Hermione walked quite close to him, and he liked that, it was comforting. Their hands and arms kept brushing so he briefly took her hand loosely until they got to the door. It wasn't the first time they'd held hands for a few moments like this, but somehow it felt different this time. However, now was not the time to test his aunt's rigidity, not to mention The Barge's. He thought he sensed some tension in the young witch, and her parents as well, as he reluctantly let go of her hand.

Harry had to knock on the door and it was only a moment later that Petunia opened it to glare at him as if he had disturbed her sleep or something. Belatedly, just as she opened her mouth for a doubtlessly scathing comment, she realized he wasn't alone. She told him, testily, "I thought you'd be done with your work before now so you could greet your guests properly." It wasn't in as harsh a tone as she usually used, but it embarrassed Harry all the same.

He decided to play his part though, hung his head as if in shame, and all but mumbled, "Sorry, Aunt Petunia, I was almost done, I just didn't finish putting fertilizer on the lawns as soon as I expected to." He was determined to show his relatives in the worst possible light he could with the Grangers there, hopefully without going so far as to cause repercussions on himself.

"Well, I suppose it can't be helped then," she said stiffly while stepping back and opening the door to admit everyone.

Harry had to hold in a snicker as he said softly, "Thank you, Aunt Petunia."

Then he went through introductions, Mr and Mrs Granger first, then Hermione. His friend looked somewhat piercingly at the woman, while her parents seemed quite at ease. Notably, Petunia did not invite them to sit in the lounge, as he knew most hostesses would. Dudley had thankfully vacated that area in the morning to go off with his gang and hadn't yet returned from "having tea" with them. The Barge seemed to be upstairs for a kip, something she often did in the afternoon.

Mrs Granger broke the ice easily, when she inquired in a friendly tone, "I understand, Mrs Dursley, that you've had Harry since he was about fifteen months old? And that you have a son of your own round the same age? I imagine it has been a chore raising two active boys so close in age."

Petunia smiled, "Yes, my Dudley is a bit over a month older, and has always been an active boy, always out with his friends, playing and whatnot. Has tea with a different one each day of the week these days. And, of course, they do come here now and then. Harry, now, has always been rather quiet; keeps to himself mostly, doesn't seem to have any friends round here. I guess I'm glad to see he's managed to come out of his shell a bit and made some friends at… **that school**." Her opinion of Hogwarts couldn't have been clearer in the way she spat the words.

Harry piped up then, "Oh yes, I've made loads of friends there without Dudley to chase them off…" he allowed his voice to trail off as soon he saw Petunia react to that statement.

"Why my Duddikins never did any such thing and you know it, boy. I'll not have you telling lies like that!" She had turned a bit red in the face, but Harry knew he'd lit a fire under her and he would fan the flames when he could.

He noticed the Grangers didn't react much, other than to lose their previous smiles. Even Hermione managed to maintain her cool, though her eyes narrowed. Harry had to bite back another laugh, which he turned into a slight cough.

"Sorry, Aunt Petunia; didn't mean to cast aspersions on Dud. He has always been a most exemplary gentleman at school and in the neighbourhood." You could have cut the sarcasm with a knife, but Harry smiled as he said it, and looked his Aunt straight in the eye.

She lost some of her colour at that and told him, "Perhaps it would be best if you were to go get your things now, so you don't hold up Mr and Mrs Granger from their plans." She'd reverted to her businesslike tone. Harry almost wished the Walrus had been here, that might have been some great fireworks.

He replied lightly, innocently, "Yes, Aunt Petunia." He turned then to his friend, asking, "Would you like to see my room, Hermione?" She nodded, and smiled.

Mr Granger quickly asked, "May I help you with your things, Harry? If you're at all like Hermione, those trunks get heavy with all the books you think you have to cart about."

Harry heard a slight gasp from Petunia, and it sounded as if she bit back a comment. He grinned and replied to the man, "Thank you, sir, it has gotten a bit heavy, with all my books, since Hermione and I wanted to work on our homework and do some research while I'm at your home."

Mr Granger winked at him and said, cheerfully, "Right-o, Harry, lets have a go at it then."

Harry smiled more fully at the man and turned to lead the way upstairs. He glanced once at Petunia as he started up, to see that her face seemed to have turned to stone, with no expression whatsoever.

It seemed to Harry as if Mrs Granger intentionally distracted his aunt then, by looking around and saying, "My, what a lovely home you have here, Mrs Dursley. I can't say I've ever seen such an interesting décor in my life. You must have done this all yourself. Would you care to show me round? I'd love to see the rest."

Petunia played right into the woman's hands, he thought. As they reached the top of the stairs, he heard her reply, obviously somewhat flustered, "Why… why yes, let me show you the downstairs at least."

The rest of their conversation was lost to him as he turned to enter his room and the two women moved away from the entry. He was held back, however, by a hand on his shoulder.

Jack stopped the boy for a moment and pulled him back as he took a small camera from his pocket. Softly he said, "Harry, I'd like to take some pictures of you and your room, if you don't mind. Hermione told us some about your living conditions here and I'd like to document what I can in the few minutes we have. I'll explain later; is that alright with you?"

Harry suppressed a wicked grin as he told Mr Granger, "Erm, sure, sir, whatever you think. I trust Hermione." He smiled softly at his friend who looked nervous and was biting her lower lip very cutely. "You have obviously raised her very well so I trust you to know what is right. This is all I've ever known, sir, so go ahead." He was rewarded with a brilliant smile from Hermione and a nod and small smile from her father.

If Jack was appalled by the state of the boy's clothing he was horrified by the bedroom door, but did his best to hide it. He pulled both the youngsters back and took a couple of quick photos of the door with its multiple locks and cat flap. It was obviously intended for punishment. He then opened the door and took a few quick shots of the room with its dilapidated furnishings, drab paint, and one overhead light without a cover. Asking Harry to stand in the middle of the room, he took a couple more.

While her dad was doing that, Hermione quietly, albeit nervously, asked, "Harry have you left anything. We thought it might be best that you bring all your stuff in case we can keep you from having to come back here again this summer. I know how much you hate it here."

Harry smiled warmly back at her and her father, answering, "Yep, I have everything packed. I can explain why later."

Having gotten the photos he wanted, Jack said, "Alright, Harry, that is good, now let's grab your stuff and head down." They took what little the boy had, at which Jack had to suppress a growl. He and Harry picked up the trunk and Hermione Hedwig's cage. Harry told them he had sent Hedwig off that morning telling her to meet him at their house in the evening. As they got out to the hall, he asked Harry quietly, "Is your cousin out?"

"Yes, sir, he is; why do you ask?"

"Just for comparison, Harry, which room is his?"

The young wizard pointed to the room across from his, so Jack carefully set down his end of the trunk, took a shot of the door, then opened it quietly and took a few quick photos of the interior. Again, he was sickened, but this time by the wealth of games, toys, and extravagant electronics lavished on the obviously spoiled child. He shook his head as he closed the door quietly, wishing he hadn't seen that. His training told him the other boy was as abused as Harry, just in a different way; it would leave him ill-prepared to face life on his own.

As the three of them made their way back downstairs they could hear the women talking, and it sounded as though Petunia was once again extolling the virtues of her _wonderful_ son, prattling on about how kind and sweet he was. Jack hoped his wife had the recorder running, and was quite sure she did. Dianne was a brilliant, and sometimes devious, woman.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, and he and Harry set the trunk down, the young man leaned in close and said softly, "If you're doing what I think you are doing, try to get a few photos in there, it might surprise you." He jerked his thumb toward the lounge.

Jack took the hint, since it sounded like the women were still at the back of the house, and stole in to take shots all around the room. He saw myriad photos of an obese blonde boy, from babyhood to present day by the looks of it. His growing sense of outrage was boosted a notch or three by the fact that there was not one single photo of Harry in the entire room, despite the plethora of others.

Pocketing the camera, he shook his head again and met the others back out in the hall. His timing was impeccable, for he'd no sooner reached the two teens when the women came up the hall toward them, Mrs Dursley leading.

After what Hermione had said about Harry's bedroom having been a cupboard for ten years, Dianne wanted to see it. Thinking fast, she stopped in front of what she assumed was the offending small door and said, feigning deep interest, "Why, Mrs Dursley, it must be so convenient having a cupboard under the stairs like this. Jack, come look dear. We have that one spot where we could do the same thing; don't you think?" She glanced at Harry who gave a quick small nod, but looked grimly resigned as he stared at the cupboard door.

Jack was pleased and proud of his wife. Stepping over to where she stood in front of the door he mused, "Why that's an excellent idea, love. We could easily enclose that space, and perhaps add some shelves and whatnot."

Dianne had her hand on the latch before she stated, "You don't mind, do you, Mrs Dursley, if we have a small peek inside. It might help us decide what we could do at home." And before Petunia could reply, she had the door open while still looking at the other woman. Jack however was looking right into the cupboard, bending down, while Petunia seemed caught between being flattered and appalled. She merely nodded, looking a bit white.

Hermione was standing beside Harry while this was going on and quickly gave his hand a gentle squeeze. He looked at her with a small smile of thanks, and she smiled warmly back. After a moment they released each other's hands, but not before he gave hers an answering squeeze.

Harry was torn between what he knew had to be done for him to leave here permanently, and embarrassment and fear of the repercussions should his and what seemed to be the Granger's complementary plans fail. He now knew where Hermione got her intelligence from, and he was rather pleased at how her parents were trying to help him. It did worry him, though, that it could all backfire horribly on him.

Jack stood back a bit to give Dianne room to see in. When she had had her look he crouched down to look a little more closely, muttering about how the builder had constructed the space. There wasn't much inside but a Hoover, brooms, mops and cleaning supplies. It was also preternaturally clean, just like the rest of the house. He did notice a place on the wall where the barely readable words "_harrys room_" were written with crayon in a childish scrawl, and which someone had tried to scrub off. It was all he could do not to vomit as he realized how true his daughter's supposition had been. Slowly backing, he stood and closed the door on that horrid sight. He took a moment to compose himself, while Dianne was fortunately distracting Mrs Dursley with talk about the lounge. The two were standing looking into that room when he turned around and stepped over to the kids.

Dianne rejoined the others as she said lightly, "Thank you, Mrs Dursley, for showing me your attractive home, it was quite the treat. It looks like we are all ready to go, so we shan't keep you from your day any longer. We do appreciate you allowing Harry to visit our Hermione. I'm afraid that with no children her age in the neighbourhood she gets a bit lonely at home during the summer."

Mrs Dursley sniffed a bit, as she replied, "You are entirely welcome. As I said, it is good Harry has friends now, and such lovely, intelligent, and well mannered ones at that."

Dianne knew she was trying to butter them up, since her daughter had barely spoken with the woman on the phone, and not at all here. Therefore, she had no idea how smart Hermione was and not really how well mannered, come to that.

But then Petunia went on, totally oblivious as to how she was digging herself in. "And Harry told me you'd be bringing him back early enough on Wednesday so he can catch up on his chores, then?"

Harry decided it was flame fanning time, so he piped up, "Not to worry, Aunt Petunia, I'll work like a dog next week to get the gardens looking tip top again, and if I have enough time I should be able to get the shed painted, as well. I also have to finish the list Uncle Vernon and Aunt Marge made for me, so I'm afraid the normal cleaning I do will have to be put back a bit, but I'll catch that up as quickly as I can." He used his most innocent, wanting-to-please voice when he said all that. Gratifyingly, it got the desired reactions: Petunia's face drained of all colour, while the three Grangers looked bemused. Petunia only nodded and swallowed hard in response. He loved this new attitude he'd developed just today.

He had to cough to hide a laugh. "My apologies," he choked out, "must be a bit of dust in the air from my trunk," he stated contritely.

Hermione knew exactly what her parents were up to, of course, but she was utterly amazed that Harry had caught on so quickly; not to mention that he was obviously and willingly participating. She and Mr Potter were going to have a serious talk, and quite soon.

Jack noticed Dianne recovered her composure as quickly as he did; Hermione, as well. He was exceedingly proud of the women in his life. He also saw how his daughter was looking at her friend and reckoned the boy was in for a lecture at the very least, a grilling seemed more likely. He did know his daughter well, after all.

Nodding to Mrs Dursley, Jack added his thanks to his wife's and assured the woman that Harry would be back by the specified time and added, "If something should come up, we'll make sure you are contacted in the event we can't get him home on time. I've little doubt it will go as planned, though, so no worries." He used his most folksy manner which often served to calm his patients. But, he'd intentionally been rather vague as well, not specifying whose plans and all.

Smiling at a stern, but silent, Petunia who only nodded at their parting comments, the four turned to the door. Hermione again picked up the cage and the two men grabbed the trunk. However it was at that moment that things went slightly pear shaped on them. Just as Harry heard Vernon's car come in the driveway, unexpectedly early, Ripper came bounding down the stairs with The Barge following hard on his heels. She looked to be on a mission from God.

Harry had to work hard to stifle a groan, and wasn't entirely successful, but fortunately Ripper barking at them covered it. Harry once again glared daggers at the damnable dumb dog who once more cowered. This may have been helped along by Hermione glaring just as angrily, if not more so. Harry recalled having once mentioned to her about how nasty the dog was and how he'd been treed by it that time.

More or less simultaneously: The Barge hit the bottom of the stairs and the resident Walrus walked in through the front door. The former started yelling about "Harry frightening her poor Ripper", and about the Boy not leaving her sight until the LIST was done. At the sight of Harry holding one end of his trunk accompanied by three other people, Vernon joined the fray yelling about Freaks invading his household. It was not a pretty scene. However, the capper was when Dud the Killer Whale sauntered in right behind his dad and smirked at Harry. Then the idiot noticed Hermione and started leering.

Harry had had enough of the behemoths. Somewhat calmly he motioned for Mr Granger to set down the trunk. The poor man looked horrified, but also angry, and his wife looked about the same. Hermione looked both petrified with fear and livid enough to spit tacks, probably at a high rate of speed, into the four Dursleys. Harry shook his head at the Grangers, wishing he could escape the yelling, bellowing, leering, and the screeching now coming from Petunia. She seemed to be trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to tell the other two what was going on.

Harry cleared his throat and, in the first bit of accidental magic he'd done in a several years yelled, "Shut it, all of you!" His voice was amplified by what he would later figure out was something akin to the sonorous charm. Needless to say, the windows and pictures rattled, a few of the latter falling to the floor punctuating the sudden silence with the tinkling sound of glass breaking.

Unfortunately, Dudley took that moment to ask the stupidest question of his whole life, "Who's the hot bird, Potter?"

Harry snapped when, instantly, the yelling and screeching started all over again. In a flash, Dud's tongue started growing, and Marge began making foghorn sounds, while Vernon seemed to inflate slightly and then started barking like a walrus as he began to look somewhat more like one. For a few moments Petunia was speechless as she gaped in abhorrence at her family. That only lasted a few heartbeats though, because she immediately started screeching like a loud bird at Harry to put them back to rights. That was when she found herself with the beak of what would likely be a world record sized parrot. All that came from her after was a series of loud squawks.

Harry took a moment to smirk at the four idiots, and said, "You have been horrid to me my entire life, so I guess you get back what you give out." He reckoned they weren't really listening, judging by the gagging from Dudley and the assorted odd sounds coming from the other three. Ripper gave out with a few snarling barks, moving toward Harry again, but when the brassed off wizard glared once more, the cur was suddenly barking quite silently. Marge was raising her hands as if to attack him, but unaccountably Ripper rose into the air and proceeded to pee all over the woman. Petunia and Vernon were barking and squawking over the state of their poor, poor Dinkydiddums.

Nodding at Mr Granger, Harry reached down for his end of the trunk, which Jack helped him to pick up again. The other three only gave the Dursleys pitying looks as Dianne led the way out, followed by Hermione, then Jack, and Harry was last. Vernon looked ready to kill as he rose from where Dud was kneeling on the floor with his growing purple tongue, and started toward Harry, his face puce with rage. He stopped suddenly as if he'd run into a wall and bounced back, falling over Dudley and Petunia, and knocking The Barge's feet out from under. The four of them wound up tangled in a heap

Just before he pulled the door closed he looked back and said happily, "Goodbye, Aunt Petunia and everyone, enjoy yourselves in my absence." He knew it was cryptic, a bit cruel, and open ended, just as he'd intended. Of course he was answered by a lot of loud squawking, barking, gagging, and foghorn blowing. It looked like Dud's tongue was nearing three feet in length. Yep, Harry quite liked this new outlook he had.

At the car, Dianne had a hard time unlocking the back for the others. Her hands were shaking as she stifled her urge to laugh uproariously. Naturally, Jack and Harry were finding that it was all they could do to get the heavy trunk in the back, for the exact same reason. Poor Hermione nearly dropped Hedwig's cage while simply trying to place it next to the trunk, as quiet giggles kept escaping her. None of them noticed the grey tabby cat perched on the garden wall, by the front corner of the house, as they prepared to leave.

Finally in the car, Jack started it and quickly pulled away from in front of number four. At the first junction he paused and let out a guffaw, which naturally set the others off, as well. He knew they all needed the release, but he just hadn't wanted to do so in front of the house. He absolutely could not believe the audacity of those people and vowed to himself that Harry would never return there. He looked fondly at his wife who had a look telling him she had made the same pledge.

Jack also knew how quickly the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad could show up, so he wanted to get Harry away from there as swiftly as possible. Hermione had accidentally silenced her great Uncle, Dianne's least favourite relative, just before she started Hogwarts. Accordingly, he didn't tarry long in his mirth knowing he needed to get them as far from that house as possible as soon as he could. He got himself under control and started the car moving again, though he was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes with a tissue supplied by his wife.

As for the youngsters, they were still leaning against each other in the back seat, laughing hysterically over the looks on Petunia's face when Harry had so innocently goaded her, the things done magically to the Dursleys, and pretty much everything else. Jack didn't think the two kids could find much of _anything_ to be serious about right then, for that matter. He was sure it was what they both needed in relief over what had been a very stressful few minutes.

The young man's cryptic parting comment had all of them laughing again when Dianne couldn't help but chortle over it. Hermione, though, was greatly impressed with Harry's wording. It seemed he'd grown and/or changed a lot in the past two weeks. They were going to have a nice long talk this evening, no matter what!

Not wanting to break the happy mood, Jack refrained from any mention of the evidence they'd just collected in the Dursley home, and what he'd seen. At an inquiring glance toward her pocket, Dianne confirmed with a nod that she had recorded everything. He beamed at her, and she winked back, but raised an eyebrow in query. He pulled the camera out of his jacket pocket, laid it on the console and patted it lovingly. They smirked knowingly at each other. They'd never had the chance to put their extensive training to use before, and were quite pleased to have done so.

By the same token, he was amazed, still, that not only had Harry caught on so quickly, but had actually participated and thrown fuel on the fire a couple of times. He could tell by the look in the boy's eyes each time that it had been intentional. From what Hermione had told of him, he knew Harry was far from stupid. Regardless, the lad was certainly an enigma given what he knew so far of him. From what they'd been taught, his actions had been highly abnormal for an abused child. Still, Jack had no doubt now he had suffered considerably at the hands of the Dursleys.

Dianne was having similar thoughts as she chuckled at the still laughing teens in the back. It was good to hear her daughter laugh, she'd heard it way to seldom in the past few years. As well, she very much liked Harry's laugh. He sounded absolutely delighted when he did; it was quite infectious. Her mind, though, was more on how Harry had reacted, and that was a complete mystery.

When she looked at her husband she saw comparable thoughts cross his countenance. They were so well attuned to one another they often did not need speech to communicate, and today they'd had lots of practice. The serious discussion could wait for later, however, as before going home they needed to buy Harry some decent clothing and a swimsuit.

Harry finally controlled his laughter, though only with some difficulty, but he and Hermione still broke each other out in chuckles every so often, as they drove out of town. He didn't know about his lovely friend, but his sides were getting sore. He liked the way she had laughed and leaned against him. That they were holding hands seemed completely natural. He wondered about it, but didn't want to jinx it by saying anything.

When Harry and Hermione both had finally regained their composure, thereby reducing the risk of bursting out laughing in the middle of a sentence, Harry made to ask her parents about a couple of things. "Mr Granger, were you planning to stop on the way to help me get a few things, like that swimsuit Hermione insists I need?" He winked at her, and she blushed cutely. She also squeezed his hand, thereby letting him know she was quite well aware their hands were still joined.

It was Mrs Granger who replied, "Yes, Harry, and I hope you take no offence to this, but those rags your Aunt and Uncle give you to wear don't do justice to the handsome young man you are." At his blush, she added, "Please, Harry, don't be embarrassed, we understand the situation better than you might think. When we get home we shall discuss all of that. For now why don't we relax and enjoy getting acquainted. I know what close friends you and Hermione are, but I truly hope you'll let Jack and me get to know you as well."

Harry was a tad flummoxed, but had decided right off to roll with the flow. What she'd said all made sense, but he couldn't for the life of him understand how they knew so much about abused children. That they were savvy enough to collect evidence at the Dursley's amazed him. Somewhere he'd heard that all British health care professionals got training in spotting child abuse and were bound by law to report it. Obviously their education on the topic was far more extensive than he'd realized. Needless to say, he looked forward to that discussion and finding out what they had up their collective sleeves.

Shaking himself from his brief reverie, he smiled at both Mrs Granger and Hermione, and said, "Thank you for the compliment, that's mostly what I was blushing over. I don't think anyone ever said I was handsome before." He caught Hermione's impish grin in his peripheral vision and wondered what that was all about. He went on, though, "Thank you as well for helping me get some other clothes now. I've never had new clothes, let alone ones that fit me, except for Hogwarts robes. I can't wait. If I could have done, I'd have gotten some the first time I went to Gringotts. I didn't know you could exchange Galleons for Pounds until later. Besides, if I came home with new clothes they might figure out I had some money in the Wizarding World, and try to get it. I know Vernon would if he could."

Mr Granger broke in then, to say, "It is our pleasure, Harry. Your lovely friend there thinks the world of you" Harry watched Hermione blush on command, "and we wish to make sure you have what any young person needs to grow into a self-respecting adult. Believe me when I tell you that decent clothing is quite near the top of _that_ list. Besides, far be it for you or me to deny these two expert shoppers the chance to show off their skills in dressing you for success."

It took Harry a second to get the joke, but that was aided by some light hearted denial from the two ladies and Mr Granger laughing, so he laughed as well. It felt good to be able to have this kind of fun with people he liked; it was similar to the antics his dorm mates and he occasionally got up to at night, only better feeling.

During the drive they had all been happy and relaxed. The conversation ranged over all sorts of things, as he and Hermione's parents got to know one another and he became more comfortable with them. He'd quickly realized they were not at all like any other people he'd known and was quickly growing attached to them.

At one point Hermione asked her mother, rather scathingly Harry thought, "Really, Mother, did you have to compliment the woman on her atrocious decorating skills? Don't you think that was a bit beyond the pale?"

Everyone else laughed, so Harry joined in even though he didn't quite get the joke entirely. He'd no idea what proper decorating was.

Dianne replied, "Oh Hermione, now really. Did you truly not think the house was tastefully decorated?" Everyone burst out laughing at her entirely too-innocent-and-naïve tone of voice.

Just over half an hour from Little Whinging, Mr Granger turned off into a business district. Hermione told him her parents' surgery was just down the way a bit. They pulled up in front of a young men's store and Harry was led in, feeling almost like he was going to his doom. He'd never been shopping, except for his Hogwarts school things, so he had no idea what to do. He was glad Hermione and her mum seemed to twig on this and to try very hard to make him feel at ease.

The shopping didn't take all that long, and Harry was suitably impressed with how efficient mother and daughter were at picking out nice, casual outfits for him. He was a bit embarrassed by having to admit he preferred briefs to boxers, but got over it quickly. What caused him the biggest problem was in the swimwear department. He had picked a baggy suit, but the ladies worked to convince him the tighter, more form fitting suit would be a lot more comfortable. He was mollified when Mr Granger had added his tuppence worth and confirmed the women's opinion. He told Harry that was what he wore and that it was definitely more comfy. He reluctantly agreed.

Harry was now dressed in all new clothing, right down to new socks and trainers. He had wanted to bin the old things, which the shoppe lady seemed quite happy to do, but Jack asked her to sack them instead. He told Harry quietly that they might be needed for evidence. Harry had grudgingly conceded the wisdom of that.

As they stowed the rest of Harry's new things in the back of the car they were discussing whether to eat at home, get something from takeaway, or just go out to eat. Coming to a consensus, they decided on picking up pizza from a popular restaurant not far down the road towards the Grangers' home. As they got back in the car, Mrs Granger pulled out a small cell phone and punched a series of buttons, and place the order for the pizza telling the person on the other end they would pick it up shortly.

When they were stopped at the pizza restaurant, Harry noted a stationer's just a few doors past and asked if Hermione would like to walk over with him to get the notebook he needed. They would be waiting for the pizzas at least another fifteen minutes. After getting the okay from her parents, the two youngsters ambled down the pavement loosely holding hands. Harry wasn't too sure what that meant, but he liked it. Hermione seemed to as well, so he just did what he'd done most of the day and rolled with the flow.

Watching the youngsters, Dianne smiled wistfully and said, "Isn't that just so very sweet; they hold hands like they'd been doing so forever, and I know from what she told me earlier they've rarely done that before."

At his raised eyebrow, she chuckle, "No, dear, you do not have to play the _concerned, overly macho, want to see my shotguns, Kid,_ Daddy card."

He laughed and asked, "Thank you, dear, I'd forgotten I could use that to scare a boy with. Just need to get my gun out of the cabinet, do you know where the keys are, by chance?"

She slapped his arm lightly, told him to behave, and they moved on to other topics. A few minutes later the children returned and it was another ten or so minutes after that when the pizza was ready, time they spent talking and enjoying each other's company. The drive home took less than ten minutes and it looked as though they'd have a very pleasant evening getting to know the young man who had become so important in their daughter's life. Dianne thought this to be a wonderful end to a rather strange day.

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Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, with more job titles than he had names (and more jobs than anyone _should_ have at one time), was returning to his office after a lengthy staff meeting, the last one until just before school began again in September. They had, in fact, gone on so long that the elves served dinner while they talked.

The reason for most of their lengthy discussion was that he had once again needed to calm their fears over what had occurred this past school year. The whole series of incidents concerning the basilisk and the Chamber of Secrets being opened had unnerved many of his colleagues. So, even though it had been a few weeks since young Mr Potter had rescued Miss Weasley, he had still had to spend considerable time belabouring the facts: The creature was indeed dead, there would never again be any danger to anyone from that quarter, and **he** knew the school was safe.

He suspected a few were still not thoroughly convinced, even though he had earlier shown them the bloody sword of Godric Gryffindor (he hated puns, but it was apropos in this case), the broken fang and the destroyed diary. He told them, for the seventh time now, that the diary had contained memories stored by Tom Riddle, that it was he who had been opened the chamber fifty years before, and it was his memory possessing Miss Weasley which had done so again this time. He did not, however, tell them that Tom Riddle was better known for the past twenty or so years as Lord Voldemort. That was something which was not at all germane to the current situation, and would only serve to make them more nervous. He sincerely hoped, this time, they would think about what he had said, and to trust that he knew what he was doing. After all, he was Albus Dumbledore, had been headmaster for nearly forty years, had taught for many years before that, always knew what he was doing, and what he did was always for the greater good.

Truth be told, Albus found it rather galling when his staff had not immediately and wholly accepted his explanations and assurances. That had not happened since Voldemort's disappearance. Then, he'd told the Minister and her staff what happened and practically had to take them to Godric's Hollow to prove it. Tonight might have gone more smoothly had his Deputy Headmistress not begged off for a family emergency earlier in the day. With her there to back him up, he knew it wouldn't have taken as long. She would be a good administrator one day and ably replace him. Not for many years, though, of that he was certain.

He was a man accustomed to deep respect, nearly bordering on reverence at times, from the rest of the wizarding world. It disturbed him greatly when anyone should doubt he spoke the truth (even if he often didn't tell the _whole_ truth). That his judgment was beyond reproach should have gone without saying. He could not believe these people didn't just accept his word and get on with it. It was practically insulting, when he thought about it.

However, in his long life there had been other times when things didn't go well, but he chose not to dwell on those things. Nor did he take to heart the doubts of his staff and others in the Wizarding World. Instead he assured himself that, as always, he knew what was best and for the greater good. After all, had he not overcome his own prejudices and turned away from the disaster-in-the-making that was the life and goals of the man he'd once loved? Had he not later defeated that same man who had become the dark lord Grindelwald? It had been such an epic triumph of good over evil it was still on his Chocolate Frog card as one of the things he was most remembered for.

Furthermore, he was the holder of secrets which could, and likely would, affect the entire Wizarding World in the next few years. He always told himself he would not have gained those secrets were it not for him being one of the greatest leaders wizarding kind had ever known. Everyone said so, therefore it must be true.

He knew he merely had to give the others on his staff a little more time. He would forgive their youthful transgressions (nearly everyone was youthful to him) when they came to their senses and apologized for doubting him. He always did that. It would be fine, soon – everything was always fine, eventually. Time was an old man's best friend because, with his experience, he could take the long view and patiently wait for things to be fine. It always worked that way.

Having put his mind to rest that all was right in his world, or soon would be, he looked up from his desk to notice something had changed in one of the shiny and delicate little devices scattered about his office. He rose and walked over to see that it appeared Harry Potter was away from his home. He assumed the Dursleys were having a holiday and had taken young Harry along as any family would. Despite what Minerva had said two weeks past, as well as twelve years earlier, and the seemingly alarmist reports occasionally sent by Arabella, he knew Harry was well cared for. Lily had been an absolutely delightful mother and he could not imagine her sister being anything different. He had, of course, never even considered visiting the home, secure in knowing that any sister of Lily's would provide a wonderful home for Harry. He knew it, therefore it was true, and he gave it no more thought

It also did not occur to the aged and aging headmaster that this was one of the very rare times Harry had left Little Whinging. In fact, except for events having to do with the Wizarding World and Hogwarts, Harry had only left there three times; the first two had been in the summer before he started Hogwarts and the last when he'd gone to the Burrow last summer. Because of all the responsibilities and demands on his time, Albus had failed to take note that Harry _never_ left "home". He _did_ notice that Harry was a bit small and thin for his age when he came to Hogwarts, but had chalked it up to late development.

Albus returned to his desk secure in the knowledge Harry was in good hands, and popped another sherbet lemon into his mouth. Happily, he considered plans for his holiday, which he nearly always took as soon as he was done with wrangling the school into shape for the next term. It was the time when his other duties were suspended for a couple of months, as well, so all could take their holidays. He had decided on a visit to the charming little Wizarding village in Alaska where his old friends ran an apothecary. He looked forward to spending time with Perenelle and Nicholas. They were still hale and hearty, and Albus hoped to finally talk them into sharing the stone with him. He had, after all, saved it from sure destruction or misuse with his machinations a year before, despite what he had told young Harry.

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As the Grangers and Harry drove home, having to get back on the A3 for a short ways, he noticed the street they turned off on was called Copsem Lane. Soon they were in an area of very upmarket homes with nice large gardens and well-kept grounds about most of them. The house they pulled up to was modest by local standards, but still much nicer than anything in Little Whinging, and that was not to mention the rather large expanse of grounds and attractive gardens surrounding it. Hermione had told him once her home was southwest of London proper and in a "nice area". His bushy haired friend was often prone to understate things, but even knowing that he was surprised and impressed to say the least.

Mrs Granger carried the pizzas in and said she'd pop them in the oven to stay warm until everyone was ready to eat. Harry, Hermione, and Mr Granger hauled Harry's stuff upstairs. It took only a few minutes to get him situated in the room adjacent to Hermione's, something she had insisted on. They shared a bath between the two rooms, at which he balked, but she assured him it would be alright, as they would each have their own space. She said they could agree on rules so that neither of them surprised the other while using the facilities. He finally relented when she told him that last, but wasn't totally convinced.

Jack had watched the whole scene in amusement. He finally chuckled, and said, "Harry, lad, take my word on this: once a woman makes up her mind on where you are going to sleep, just go with it. They will never change their mind." Hermione blushed cutely and poked her tongue out at her dad who only laughed more while herding the two kids out of the room.

Tromping downstairs, the three of them were in good spirits as they descended on the dining room. After the day's activities, they all decided they were starving. Mrs Granger smiled at them, including Harry. As she turned to go get the food from the kitchen, she asked over her shoulder, "What would everyone like to drink?"

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After a lively dinner, the two youngsters were shooed back upstairs to get Harry unpacked, with instructions to return as soon as they were done. He was putting away his new clothes while she placed his books on the built in bookshelf. As they worked they talked about some of the fun things they could do while he visited and other easy topics. Both knew they would soon get to the real reason for his stay, just not yet.

Naturally, Hermione was bursting to know about it, but mature enough to wait until the right time. Besides, she too wanted to share some important things. She turned to watch him for a moment, and softly said, "I know you sometimes have nightmares, Harry, and I'd like to be able to help you if you need me to. That's mainly why I wanted you next door to me." He looked around at her and when he frowned, she added, "I've seen you do so a few times when you fell asleep in the common room. I assume they are from the Stone and the Chamber incidents? Anyway, when that has happened, you might not know, but I held your hand and stroked your hair and brow until you calmed, and then I woke you." She knew she was blushing fit to set her hair on fire, but still wanted him to know.

Harry smiled affectionately at his blushing friend, knowing his own hue likely matched hers. "Thanks," he said quietly, "I never knew that. I remember you waking me a few times from bad dreams, but not that you were holding my hand… or the other. That, erm, was very kind of you, Hermione."

Still blushing, she replied, "I was glad to do it. I know you've not had a lot of that sort of thing before, and it felt right to me." She looked down then.

Harry wondered if he'd misread the signals in the previous timeline, or whatever that was. He asked himself, _"Did she like me as more than a brother figure in the early years, and I just didn't notice? Or, am I changing things by being here now? Did she decide Ron was the safer bet at some point?"_ It was more to ponder later.

However, he walked over and took her hands in his, causing her to look up. "Hermione, you have always been the best friend I could ever ask for. I… I want you to know how much I appreciate you doing all you do for me." With that he pulled her into a close hug, and this time when Mr Happy rose to attention, he did not pull away. He'd be damned if he'd be further embarrassed by his body reacting normally to the fact he was holding a warm, sweet girl.

Hermione was amazed. It was the first time Harry had ever initiated a hug. She felt the growth of something which pressed against her lower abdomen, and knowing what it was had to stifle a giggle. But then she realized it was a normal reaction and what it meant that he didn't pull away. He trusted her completely not to embarrass him over it; and even more that he didn't care if she knew. She was bewildered by the implications. _"Does that mean he has feelings for me? Does it mean he wants to be closer than just best friends? Is it truly what I want?"_ All these thoughts and more went through her head as she held him as tightly as he did her.

The hug lasted much longer than any ever had between them previously, and she was delighted it did. Her heart rate had soared, and she felt that same tightening in those places she had earlier. Hormones or not, Harry Potter definitely made her react as she never had before to a boy. As he relaxed his hold, she did too, and gave him another kiss on the cheek. To her further shock, he reciprocated. And then he had the audacity to smile that crooked smile of his at her. Her face heated again, not that it had returned to normal, but she held his eyes.

Harry pulled back after sharing that kiss on the cheek with his best friend, and, in what seemed to be right at the moment, just held her hands and gazed into her eyes while they stood closely together still. Something very important seemed to pass between them in that few moments. He was pretty sure they had already made a very different decision than they'd done in the other timeline. He hoped it didn't mess things up too much.

"Erm," she said softly, "we should go down and talk with my parents now; alright? You're mostly done, aren't you?"

He smiled more fully, as he replied, "Yes. I just wanted you to know how important you are to me, and that I'm very glad we are such close friends."

They were both still blushing, she noticed, but their eyes stayed locked on each others'. Very quietly she replied, "You are very important to me too, Harry. I hope we are always this close."

He had to clear his throat, but he told her, "Me too, Hermione, me too." He then pulled her into another quick embrace. He couldn't recall ever feeling this good before, and was damned if he'd access the other memories to compare. "_Bugger that_," he thought, then snorted. Hermione would have been appalled if he'd said that aloud. He had developed a somewhat more colourful vocabulary since morning.

She pulled away from the quick hug, and demanded, "Alright, Mr Potter, what's so blasted funny about us hugging?" He could see her lips twitch and laughter in her eyes so he knew she wasn't seriously put out.

"I just had a thought of something we need to talk about. It was, erm, ironic would be the best way to put it, I guess."

She was still confused, but let it go for now. "Alright, so are you going to tell me in private about all this, or do you want to tell my parents as well?"

"Hmm," he thought for a moment. "I guess I can tell your parents, and probably should come to think; but I have to ask one thing. How much have you told them about our _adventures_ at school?"

She thought for a moment about what he was really asking. "I've told them nearly everything. I can't say they were over the moon about some of it, but they try to understand as best they can. They have never actually seen much magic, so they don't really know what I mean all the time. But they are very supportive of me being a witch, so it hasn't been a problem yet."

"Alright, I'll tell them as well, but I sure hope they don't pitch me to the kerb after I do."

She laughed, "Don't worry, Harry. I doubt you could say anything that would make them do that. Stop worrying." She could tell he was concerned about whatever he had to reveal, and that really got her curiosity up.

Looking around the room, she said, "I think we've gotten most everything put up, so why don't we go back down now. I know they want to talk with you about some things."

He chuckled, "Yeah, I thought they might."

Hands on hips, and with a stern smile, she stated "Which reminds me, Mr Potter, you owe me an explanation for the way you acted at your Aunt's house. How did you know what my parents were doing? And why do you seem so different than just two weeks ago. I want to know what's going on with you."

He took her hand, leading her out to the hall and toward the stairs. "That, my dear Miss Granger, is… complicated. The reason I knew what was going on is part of what I have to tell you. So you will have to be a wee bit more patient, and then I promise all will become clear."

She stopped him, looking fairly serious this time. "I trust you, Harry, I always have. I just hope this isn't like some of the other things we've gotten into the past two years."

He smiled, "Hermione, I really and truly hope that what we have to talk about might keep more of those kinds of things from happening at all. I think it can."

She stamped her foot in frustration, saying "You promised me all that lovely information, you know." She smiled sweetly with huge pleading eyes then, which she knew always worked on him.

He smiled innocently and asked in an over-the-top posh voice, "What ever could you mean, Miss Granger?"

It occurred to her that they were still holding hands, as if they always did, so she slapped his arm lightly with her free hand. "Don't you go playing dumb with me, Mr Potter!" She grinned at him, "You know exactly what I'm talking about, and don't you dare try to weasel out of it."

Harry looked up at the ceiling as if thinking hard, then back down at her in mock surprise, "Oh, that information. Hmm, let me see now…" he trailed off smiling warmly. But then he remembered something. "Sorry, I almost forgot. Wait here a second, I need to get something."

He dashed back into the room and snatched up the notebook he'd used that morning. Meeting his friend back in the hall, they smirked at each other, communicating in that way that always drove others at school barmy.

Hermione couldn't help but tease him a bit as she grabbed his hand again to lead him toward the stairs. In a wheedling tone that she knew bugged him, she implored "Aw, come on, Harry, can't you even give me a hint? You know you want to."

He grinned back at her, playing along, imitating Ron and slightly making fun of their absent friend, "But, Hermione, I can't. You might find out I know more about it than you do, but then if I told you I wouldn't know more about something than you, and that's just not fair." Only after he said it, he realized how Ron often thought exactly that way, and suddenly it wasn't funny.

She grew serious, as she caught his change in mood and knew what he was thinking. "Yeah, I know," she said musingly, without him even having to say anything, "and that is one of the things we need to talk about at some point. Ron has a way of making us both crazy at times."

"Yeah," Harry said back, still thinking about it as they both slowed to a stop near the top of the stairs. "I think we need to try to get him to grow up some. But I think the problem is his mum because she treats him and Ginny, and even the twins, like they don't have a brain in their heads. It's like she thinks they are little kids still, or wants to keep them that way.

Smiling, yet in a semi-stern voice as she pulled him again toward the stairs, she scolded, "Nice way to change the subject, Potter; real smooth, that was. Just when did you go getting all philosophical?"

He grinned, and answered, "Well darn, ya can't blame a guy for trying, Granger. And hey, I can have a deep thought now and then. You don't have the market cornered on that yet."

They bantered back and forth, holding hands and enjoying their friendship all the way downstairs. Harry thought she'd drop his hand as they got to where her parents could see, but she did not, even though he loosened his grip. He realized he liked that, but also that he was both looking forward to the upcoming talks and worried over what might happen after. He'd done an awful lot of thinking today and was glad he'd soon have someone to share his difficulties with. It would be an interesting evening, to say the least. He had no idea just how remarkable it would soon become.

TBC

A/N's: Chapter title is from an Oak Ridge Boys song, Leaving Louisiana in the Broad Daylight. In the UK the term estate car is what we crass Yanks call a station wagon. I don't honestly know if Copsem Lane, southwest of London proper, is an area of upmarket homes or not. It looked like a nice area on the map, with lots of parks, and was convenient for me to use in the story so it wasn't a long drive between LW and the Granger home. Some sharp readers may notice a nod to one of my favourite fanfic authors, Jeconais, when Hermione commented about the decorating. It is from one of my all-time favourite fics, White Knight, Grey Queen. It can be found on his website at fanficauthors(dot)net. It is Harry/Pansy, but very well written and wholly believable.

Thanks, as always, to the bestest beta crew, Tommy, Mike and Randy. I hope you, the reader, are enjoying my little tale.


	4. Chapter 3 Feels So Right

The Inimitably Inspired, Indubitably Irreverent Harry Potter Do-Over

By

Herman Tumbleweed

**Disclaimer:** Full quasi-legal disclaimer in prologue. So, you really think that if I owned this I'd put it out for free on the internet? Cool! Let's get together and talk about some nice land on the North Carolina shore I have for sale…

A/N: I suppose you could blame Loralee1 for this because part of it came from her plot bunny. On the other hand you could also blame the Wizard of Oz writers and filmmakers, since that is likely where my fascination with fantasy originated. Now, as to my rather odd sense of humour? Blame my grandfather… he was a strange one, that's for sure… yeah, yeah, that's the ticket... blame all those folks. In case you might not have noticed, I take few things in life seriously. Now, sit back, get comfortable, put all food and drinks out of reach so as to protect your computer components, and read on. I have changed how words are emphasized, when not done in **bold**, switching from _italics_ to underlining.

Thank you very much to those who have reviewed and all the folks who have added me to their alert and/or favourites lists. I'm honoured… no, really, I am… hey come back with that…

**Chapter Three: Feels So Right**

Amelia Bones was just finishing up a rather long day, when her assistant knocked and then entered. She looked up at the young man with an eyebrow raised.

"I know you were getting ready to leave, ma'am, but I thought you should see this before you went home." He handed her a sheaf of parchment, and left.

She glanced down at the forms, which were the standard accidental magic fooforaw which she often had to peruse, usually without much interest. She only saw the ones which were of a significant nature and which might require her to take action, such as notifying the minister. That seldom happened; usually when the incident occurred in front of a large number of Muggles, and then only if there was a chance not all had been Obliviated of the memory. Occasionally, in such situations, the need arose to feed the Muggle news media a cover story.

She scanned the documents and then froze when she saw the name of the young wizard who had caused the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad and Obliviators to be dispatched to his home. Harry James Potter. _"Oh my_," she thought. "_He's the same year as Susan, so he should be old enough to have more control than this. Must have taken a lot, from what she tells me of him, to get the boy that rattled."_ Most youngsters after two years in school would freak out if their magic got away from them like his apparently had, so someone from the department definitely needed to visit and reassure him tonight there would be no repercussions.

As well, she was quite aware of the stories circulating about how the young wizard had recently killed a basilisk in the bowels of Hogwarts. It seemed a fantastic and impossible story, but given his history she could not totally discount it either.

Reading the forms over more closely, she found that he had departed immediately following the incident with another student and her family. The girl was a Muggleborn, and, though Susan had mentioned the girl, Amelia had no reason to know anything about the young witch. Included, however, was the address of the girl, one Hermione Granger, and her parents.

She couldn't help the snort that escaped as she read the full report. He'd done transfigurations on **four** people, three at once and the other shortly after! He'd then levitated a dog! The dog had proceeded to urinate on at least two of the people, though it was unclear as to whether Potter had caused that or the animal was just frightened. This was going to be one very powerful wizard some day. In time he would probably outstrip Dumbledore. She looked then at the strength of the burst of accidental magic and her eyebrows threatened to disappear into her hairline. Powerful indeed!

Even to the Amelia, who'd just about seen it all, the type of transfigurations done was priceless. The report didn't say so, naturally, but she could imagine how hard it had been for the witches and wizards to remain totally professional while setting things to rights. The urge to guffaw over the state of the Muggles would have been hard to control, especially given the sounds they were making when the team arrived.

After quickly reading through the report, skipping nothing, she tapped a small device on her desk. A moment later her assistant came in again. "Yes ma'am?" he inquired.

Send for Team Chief Grenouille, please. I'd like to discuss this report with him."

The young man smiled knowingly, "Yes, ma'am. He thought you might, and is waiting just outside."

She chuckled, and told him to send the senior Obliviator in.

When the man ambled through her door, she looked up at him expectantly while he took the seat she gestured him to. "Well, Mike, what do we know about this situation that is not in the report?"

He grinned. "Why Director Bones, what would make you think not everything is in the official report." He stressed the word, and she caught his meaning.

"Humour me, and tell me the rest." She smirked at her old friend.

His grin faded to a very serious and dark look. "Amelia, if I was Harry Potter I wouldn't return to that house for any reason whatsoever. An' if someone tried to make me do so, I'd kill 'em, or at least hurt 'em real bad. End of story! You know my dad's a Muggle, but I've never, ever seen Muggles that're aware of magic act like those… individuals. An' I'm bein' couth callin' 'em that, just so you know."

Her eyebrows started heading for her hairline again. She'd known this man for nearly as long as she'd been in the department, and he'd hardly ever spoken badly about anyone, let alone Muggles. Having known him so long, she well knew also that he was a good and decent man who did his job professionally and to the best of his considerable ability.

Taking his cue from her eyebrows, a well known indicator in the department that one should continue with more information, the man smiled grimly. "I don't know if I could adequately describe how rude and offensive those people were to us. We nearly had to subdue the Mr, and the Mrs wasn't a whole lot better. Then there was the sister of the… gentleman. The Mrs was nattering on about how the, and I quote, "damned useless boy" was a menace to society. The Mr kept yelling at everybody to get out of his house and calling us freaks, then there was the sister just generally yelling, and most of it I've no idea what she was on about. A lot of that, however, was about the same as the other two, mostly how the boy was a horrid creature and such drivel."

"Funny part was the son, Dudley," here he snickered. "After we set his tongue to rights, he spent the whole time with one hand over his mouth and the other trying to cover his extremely ample backside, which he mostly kept against a wall or somethin'."

Amelia smiled at the image, even though she was disinclined find enjoyment in anyone's misfortune. She rolled her hand indicating he should continue.

Mike shook his head, "I don't know what else to tell ya, Amelia. We know the Potter boy left with his classmate, as the report says, and is supposed to be stayin' with her for a few days. I don't think he should return there for the rest of the summer, if at all, frankly. They really hate the kid, and it isn't a new thing either. Has less to do with what he did, than that they absolutely detest magic and anything that smacks of magic." He sat back looking grim and a bit bewildered.

Amelia thought over what he had said and asked, "Is there something else, Mike?"

"Just a feeling, but I would bet the Potter boy has been abused by those **animals**." He fairly spat out the last word, but went on mildly, "We did a thorough search of the house, as per SOP, three of the bedrooms were as you'd expect. The master with en-suite, what seemed to be a guest room where the sister appeared to be staying, and the Dursley boy's room. That was packed with all manner of Muggle toys and whatnot."

"The fourth bedroom is what has my knickers in a twist, everyone on the team for that matter. It was dingy, a bare light on the ceiling, a crummy looking bed and half broken or worn out furnishings. The worst of it was the locks on the outside of the door to keep someone locked inside, and there was a cat flap at the bottom. Not sure what that last was all about. It had to have been Potter's room because of a calendar on the wall with days crossed off and the first of September circled. There were a lot of really hacked off witches and wizard on the team after we all saw that room."

"It looked like the boy didn't intend to return, though, because all his stuff was gone. One thing that didn't make a lot of sense was some clothes in there that looked to be cast-offs from the other boy. But, they looked like they might have been used by Potter. Just a hunch, but I'd bet they never bought the lad clothes that fit."

Amelia mused on that for a moment. She seemed to recall Susan having said his Muggle clothes always seemed way too big for him. "Mike," she said then, "I think it would be best if I went and had a chat with young Mr Potter tonight. He needs to have his mind set at ease over the incident, and I want to at least try to find out if any of what you suspect is true."

"Just what I was goin' to suggest; he's high profile and I figured you'd want to handle it instead of me. If he was treated badly, though, it might be best to have someone from another department, Muggles even, go and arrest the gits. By tomorrow everyone in DMLE will have heard about his living conditions an' be wantin' to get their hands on the barmy fools."

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When Hermione and Harry got downstairs, they were still teasing each other and laughing together as they walked out onto the patio where her parents had drinks waiting for them. It was a pleasant evening, the heat of the warm day dissipating. As they seated themselves, they finally dropped their loose grip on each other's hands. Harry was thinking about how comfortable and easy it was to be with her, even more so away from school.

Ignoring the others temporarily, Harry took a moment to admire the lovely rear garden with its marvellous landscaping and the waterfall built into the pool. It was certainly a step or four up from anything the Dursleys would ever have. That thought made him smile to himself.

Turning his attention back to the Drs Granger and their lovely daughter, he saw the amused smiles on the adult's faces before he looked at Hermione, who had slightly pink cheeks. It took him a second before he realized her parents had been looking amusedly at their clasped hands as the pair took their seats, then he too flushed some.

Mr Granger cleared his throat and said, "Tell me, Harry," as he leaned forward with his arms on the table and his eyes twinkling in obvious mirth, "is this a new development?" He gestured at their hands and the fact that they had, automatically moved their chairs close together, "or did our Hermione forget to tell us something?"

Harry felt like the deer in the headlights, and had some idea of what he'd done to Aunt Petunia that morning. In the past two years he'd faced a mountain troll, "Fluffy" the giant three headed dog, a Voldemort possessed teacher, Hagrid's automobile sized "pet" spiders, Tom Riddle, and a bloody immense basilisk, not to mention Snape, McGonagall and a number of other things. That meant Harry was not a coward, but this man, even though he was smiling, scared the young wizard more than he'd ever thought possible. He froze for a moment, but then he remembered his slightly confused feelings for Hermione, and how he had always liked her so much. Suddenly, somehow, it didn't matter what the man said, thought, or did. He wanted, for a moment, to access the memories of that older man, but firmly resisted.

"Er… actually, sir, Hermione and I are very good friends, and we often sit close together when talking." Harry hated the fact his voice squeaked right then, but he cleared his throat and went on. He glanced at Hermione, who was smiling warmly and encouragingly at him, and at Mrs Granger who had the same look. "Mr Granger, Mrs Granger, Hermione and I have just been really good friends since Halloween of our first year. If one day that becomes something more, I would like that. For right now I think we both want to just be the best friends we can be." He glanced at Hermione and got a smile and enthusiastic nod of approval.

Jack Granger watched the boy's eyes as he said all that. He was surprised, as the young man's gaze never wavered once while he spoke; and he was impressed. Few boys that age could talk to a female friend's father that way without cringing. At least that's what he'd heard from his friends at the gym and on the golf course. Hermione had always told them Harry was different, and he was beginning to see just how different.

Jack sat back, chuckling, and took his wife's hand, in a clear show of affection. Smiling more broadly at the two across the table he said, happily, "Well spoken, Harry. Well said, indeed. You should know that Hermione rarely lets any of what happens to her, even at school, go unreported to her poor worrying parents." He winked at Harry then, and added, "It's good to know she has a brave young man to keep an eye on her."

Hermione snorted, "Oh, Daddy, knock it off. You knew before we went to get him what Harry is like."

Dianne knew exactly what her husband was up to, even if she didn't necessarily approve. However, it was an age old tradition for a father to test his daughter's potential suitors, and she was quite pleased with how Harry had handled it.

Leaning forward and pulling Jack with her, she placed their clasped hands on the table and smiled at her daughter and the handsome young man beside her. She nudged Jack with her shoulder and said, "Despite His Daddiness here having to show off his macho side, we are happy you both know there will be time for whatever happens later. I was talking with Hermione earlier, Harry, and told her that it really is best to let relationships grow slowly, to develop over time. I'm glad you understand that as well. We know how close you two have been at school."

"Harry," she went on, "to ease your mind, you two being close makes no difference in how we feel about you staying here. We trust Hermione, and, because of how highly she has always spoken of you, we trust you as well. Besides, if you were going to get up to any mischief you have nearly ten months at school to do so." She winked at the kids in an over the top fashion then, drawing another pair of blushes.

Despite her reddened face, Hermione beamed at her parents, then leaned in closer to Harry, saying, "See? Told you they were cool; didn't I?"

Harry couldn't help smiling from Mrs Granger's comments, and even wider when Hermione said that. The parents both flushed a bit in turn, which told him they could be teased, and take it as well as they dished it out. The added bonus was that they so heartily approved of his and Hermione's growing friendship.

Hermione smiled at her parents and leaned over to peck Harry on the cheek. He looked shocked, and blushed again. But then, looking a bit playful, he reciprocated, though he did glance at her parents for their reaction. She knew she blushed as well, but was very pleased that Harry could already relax so well with her parents. It said a lot for the future of whatever happened between them.

The two smiled at one another, eyes sparkling with friendship and humour, as the adults watched them. Jack had never seen his daughter so happy, even when Professor McGonagall hand delivered her Hogwarts letter and then confirmed, by demonstration, that it was entirely genuine. For some reason he'd probably never fathom, he was not in the least concerned about the young man whom he was fairly sure had already captured his daughters heart, and at such a young age. It looked to him as if the two were destined to be very close for the rest of their lives and likely were slowly falling in love.

Dianne couldn't help the goofy grin she knew she was sporting as she watched her daughter and Harry kiss each other on the cheek and then stare briefly at each other. She knew that if the two were not yet in love, they would be in time. In her heart she also felt that, barring something totally unforeseen, her daughter was sitting with her life mate, if not her soul mate.

Oddly, those thoughts did not make her uncomfortable, only brought up a few happy tears. She wiped her eyes and nose as surreptitiously as she could, though she knew she'd been busted when it drew her husband's attention. He only smiled knowingly at her, and carefully dried his own eyes. She noticed that their momentary lapse in decorum went uncharacteristically without remark from their daughter, who was now smirking at the handsome boy across from them. It seemed the two were totally immersed in their own silent conversation.

Taking a sip of his drink, Jack softly cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the two youngsters. They gave him their attention, smiling as if they had just shared a little joke which he and Dianne were not privy to. It was actually a bit unnerving that the two kids already had that mental connection most adult married couples eventually developed.

"Well," he said warmly, "now that everyone's happy and comfortable, and I quite agree with Mum by the way, we have other not so pleasant things to talk about." His voice turning more serious, he continued, "I think we need to discuss what went on at the Dursleys, and why, Harry."

Harry gave the man his full attention, though, for reasons he didn't understand he automatically took Hermione's hand under the table. "Yes, sir, I was hoping we could talk about that soon."

"Alright, Harry, but one thing first. I don't think you need to be quite so formal with us." He glanced at his wife, and at her nod, continued, "Please use our first names. In case you missed it earlier, I'm Jack, and this is Dianne." He nudged his wife lovingly with his shoulder.

To say that Harry was surprised would be a gross understatement, but he was pleased nonetheless. He took it as one more level of acceptance by the parents of the girl he liked so much. Even though he blushed a bit and stammered, he replied, "Th… Thank you, sir, er, Jack, and you too, er, Dianne. I… I really appreciate that." He cleared his suddenly thick throat, as Hermione's hand tightened around his. "I can't tell you how wonderful it feels to be so… accepted, I guess would be the right word. You've already made me feel… at home…" he choked up then and couldn't go on.

Hermione automatically, handed Harry a tissue. It seemed they would all have their turn this evening at misty eyes. She had noticed her parents earlier, but was too occupied at the time to comment.

Harry wiped his eyes, and cleared his throat. Looking rather sheepish, he opened his mouth, but she cut him off. Gently, she told him "Before you start telling everyone how sorry you are for having emotions, which, by the way, you are as entitled to as anyone, I think you should just accept that we, all three of us, care about you; alright, Harry? Now, may we please listen to what Mum and Dad have to say?" She squeezed his hand in a gentle reminder of how much she supported him.

Harry had turned to look at his friend as she started speaking, and saw the need on her face and in her eyes for him to trust her. All he could do was nod, as another lump rose in his throat. Turning to her parents, he gave them a smile that he was sure looked more like a grimace and nodded to them as well.

Dianne told him, "Harry, you probably don't know this, but all health care professionals in the UK, well the Muggle ones anyway," she smiled a little, "are bound by law to report, and, if possible, take action when they become aware of child abuse. I hope you are alright with us doing what we've done so far, but it is a law we fully agree with." He nodded in easy acceptance of that, so she went on. "Hermione had mentioned a couple of things previously about your situation and when we talked with her before we left the house this afternoon she told us she thought you might have been abused by your… family." She paused before adding that word, and Harry couldn't help but snort, although softly.

At Dianne's and Jack's raised eyebrows, he explained, "I have never considered them family; I suppose because they never treated me like family. Forgive me for interrupting."

He heard Hermione sniffle beside him and turned to her. Before he could ask, she implored, "Please don't be mad at me, Harry. I just wanted to do what was right, to get you away from those awful people… I… I couldn't bear thinking any longer about what… what they do to you during the summer… When mum and dad asked what I knew about it, because of what I said before, I had to tell the truth…" She trailed off, tears coursing down her face.

He put his arm around her shoulders and looked into her watery eyes. While he'd not had a lot of experience comforting crying girls, he had done so for Hermione a couple of times when the insults and other stresses had become too much for her. While before it had been uncomfortable for him, this time it felt as natural as holding her hand had all evening.

Speaking softly, Harry told her, "Hermione, I know you only wanted to keep me safe again. That is what you always do. This truly is no different than other things you've done to help me. I'm not angry; in fact I'm quite grateful." Everything he said was from the heart, but he had no idea he had just sealed his fate with the girl he was trying to comfort, not to mention her parents.

She looked up immediately, her face still wet and her eyes and nose red, she asked, "You… you're not angry with me? Not at all?"

"No, I'm not angry, Hermione. Like I said, you have helped me a lot by this, and I will explain why after your par… when Jack and Dianne get done with what they have to say; alright?"

She smiled as brightly as someone who had just been crying is capable of, and nodded her head vehemently. Harry reached out to get a few tissues, but when he turned his face back to her, he got a big surprise. His friend reached her head up to brush her lips over his, and he could feel his face, neck, ears, chest, and probably his whole body flushing. He was sure he was as red as he'd ever been, but glancing over at Jack and Dianne saw they seemed amused, and not at all upset.

Hermione was again smiling brightly, looking softly into his eyes, and he had the presence of mind then to start drying the tears on her face with the tissues. After he'd dabbed at her face for a bit, she held his hand against her soft cheek for a moment, then took the tissues and finished the job. She ended the process by grabbing a couple more to quietly blow her nose.

Her smile of thanks was all Harry needed to know he'd done the right thing. Of course the almost kiss had been a really big surprise, but it hadn't been at all unpleasant.

Turning back, he was surprised to see approving looks and smiles on the faces of Jack and Dianne. They seemed very pleased that he'd been able to comfort Hermione. Harry smiled back, that lump forming in his throat again. He was just not used to people being this kind and sympathetic with him. Sure, the professors at Hogwarts were nice most of the time, well, except for the greasy git. But no one had been like this ever, at least not in this time line. It was going to take some getting used to.

These were the kinds of things he instinctively knew not to use his future memories for. While it would have been much easier to use that knowledge, somehow it felt like he would be cheating, and that he refused to do. This was all too important for him to be anything less than genuine and honest with others about. It also made him feel good, knowing he had at least that much maturity.

Having finally got past the problems of sniffling and blushing hormonal teens, Dianne and Jack carefully explained to Harry what they had done at the Dursley's so he would know exactly what they hoped to accomplish for him. When they'd finished the explanation, Jack asked, as kindly as he could, "Harry, is all that alright with you? We didn't have any way of letting you know beforehand, but we felt it was very important to find out what we could of your situation and document it while we were there."

Harry shook his head to clear it, still feeling a little overwhelmed that they were so concerned with how he felt. He smiled, though, as he told Jack, "Yeah, that was brilliant, if you ask me. How I sussed what you were up to should come clear when I get into what I promised to tell Hermione. We decided to tell you, well, because it probably will affect you as much as us; alright? I really think you should know about this."

They looked a little bemused over that, but nodded and voiced approval. Jack continued, "Harry, I'd like to turn over the photos I took and the recording Dianne made to a solicitor friend of ours. I've known the man since primary school, and he is very good at what he does. I'll ask him to look it over and see if he thinks there's a case there. I believe he's dealt with the child protection services before, so he should know what is or what isn't a case. He'll likely want to talk to you sometime soon. We don't need to know what you have to say about what went on there, I'm sure it will be difficult for you to speak about, but we will support you as much as you wish when you tell it to Alden or whomever. One other thing I want you to understand is that Dianne and I have no intention of returning you to that home, unless ordered to by a court. From the training we've had, we are both reasonably certain it will not come to that."

Harry sat back and thought about all the man had said, then looked over at Hermione who was smiling nervously. He returned her smile, if somewhat timorously. "Jack," he said, turning back to the adults, "I think it would be good for me to talk to your solicitor, and I hope he can make it all work out. The only thing I want to know is where I'd have to go if I don't have to go back to the Dursleys. I don't have any other relatives that I know of."

He was actually a bit worried about that and wondered, momentarily, if he could move fully into the Wizarding World and disappear from the Muggle one. Maybe he could stay with the Weasleys or someone like that, but then remembered thinking earlier how that was not at all the best option if he was to get anything done. It occurred to him then that staying in the Muggle world as much as possible might be the best solution for now.

Dianne looked warmly at the boy, seeing the doubt come over his face as he considered his living options. "Harry, would you consider living with us?" she asked. He was looking at the table when she asked that and his head snapped up so fast she was afraid he'd given himself whiplash. His eyes were wide, and his mouth moving like a fish out of water.

Hermione drew his attention to her, by pulling on his arm until they were shoulder to shoulder. When he looked at her, she said softly, "Harry, we talked about this before we picked you up. We were always going to ask if this is what you might want to do."

Jack added a bit more, saying, "Dianne and I have only begun to get to know you, Harry, but we've been hearing about you from our daughter in every letter, and a lot more when she's been home, for most of the last two years. Having spent even the little bit of time we have with you, and with how Hermione has always talked about you, we have no reservations about becoming your guardians, if you would consent to it. I think it would make Hermione happy, perhaps," he smiled wickedly at his daughter, who blushed on cue, "and would solve a number of problems for you. So what do you say, my young friend, want to live with your girlfriend's family during holidays and be close to her all year long?"

Harry was still a bit stunned and a little slow on the uptake. Hermione, however, was not at all slow, as she immediately stated, rather loudly, "I'm not his girlfriend, Dad, and you know it. So stop, already." But she smiled at her dad because it was obvious he was teasing.

Harry suspected the man didn't want the mood to get too depressing. But, after yelling in indignation at her dad, Harry could have sworn he heard Hermione mutter under her breath, "At least not yet…"

"I… I would love to live with you. Thank you, I don't…" He didn't get any further because of a loud "squee" from right next to him then, and a pair of arms which went around his neck as Hermione all-but apparated herself into his lap. He could see her happiness shining brightly in her eyes and broad smile, just before she hugged the stuffing out of his neck. Automatically, it seemed, his arms went around her as well.

It took Harry a few moments to collect his wits, but then he looked over at Jack and Dianne, and his mind shut down. He blushed as brightly as ever he had as it sunk in that Hermione was sitting on his lap, the two of them hugging tightly, and right in front of her parents, and this was not a situation he was totally at ease with. As he looked back down, Hermione lifted her head, and her soft eyes suddenly became huge and round. She turned her head slowly to look at her parents, almost as if afraid of their reaction, and then buried her face in Harry's neck. He could feel the heat coming off her, as he buried his own beetroot red face in her hair. It was a rather tense moment for the pair, until he heard soft laughter from across the table.

Dianne could not believe that her normally reserved daughter had just jumped into her friend's lap. It took her and Jack both by surprise. They looked at each other for a moment, and could only shake their heads as they realized their little girl truly was growing up. But when the two youngsters had then realized what had happened, they had both blushed fit to start fires and the scene was just too cute and too funny for them not to laugh. It was a priceless moment they would both treasure for years.

Hermione and Harry soon looked up again at the smiling and chuckling people across the table from them, still as red as could be. Dianne asked, too innocently, "Are you two about done being all cute and cuddly for a while?"

For one of the few times in her life, their daughter appeared to be absolutely speechless. With as much dignity as she could muster, Hermione gracefully got up from Harry's lap and resumed her chair. Then she took the boy's hand like it was a lifeline. Both kids were still looking down and blushing, but seemed to be overcoming it slowly.

Jack was still chuckling as he asked with humour in his voice, "I would guess that the two of you are quite happy with this decision as evidenced by your reactions?" He grinned across the table getting a blank look from Harry and a slightly dark look from his daughter. He let them off the hook, as it were, by continuing with, "So why don't we try to get the discussion back on track now? Harry, do you have any more questions about this?"

Thinking for a moment before replying, Harry then said, "I was thinking this morning that I really don't ever want to live there again, but the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, seems to think he can control my life. He's the one who put me there in the first place and I can tell you more about that in a little while. The thing is he keeps insisting I go back there, but he has never once, that I know about, bothered to find out what it is like for me. Last year I asked him if I could stay at the castle over the holidays. This year I asked Professor McGonagall to talk with him for me, and she told me he refused to consider my going anywhere else and wouldn't talk to me. I'm completely brassed off about all that, if you must know." He ran his hand through his hair, wanting to use the other memories but unwilling to do so until he'd told them about it all. It wouldn't sound right to have his vocabulary and ability to analyze some things suddenly become much improved. "What I mean, is that I think I need to speak with a Wizarding Solicitor who can work in both worlds. No offence to your friend, but he couldn't deal with the Wizarding World problem I seem to have."

Hermione spoke up before her parents could, "It couldn't hurt to talk to Uncle Alden, Harry. At least he could give you some advice to get you started with. Mum, Dad, what do you think?" She grinned, and explained to Harry, "He's not actually my uncle, but we are so close to them I've always called him that."

Dianne jumped in then, "I think it would still be a good idea, Harry. Our friend, Alden Branstone, could give you some really sound advice, at the very least.

Something Harry had been thinking about earlier in the day suddenly surfaced, and he accessed the other memories momentarily to verify it. Just as Jack began to say something in support of the ladies, Harry cut him off by starting to chuckle. The chuckle turned into a snicker and the snicker into a guffaw. The other three were looking at him as if he'd lost it and gone completely mental, round the twist, and maybe a few more colourful terms. Their expressions just made it worse, but he could see, through the tears of laughter, that they were all smiling, if bemusedly.

He finally got it under control, after about a minute, and asked, "Mr Branstone, is he rather tall, maybe a bit taller than you, Jack, quite friendly, has a roundish face, and talks as if he was born to aristocracy?"

Jack looked strangely at Harry and replied, "Yes, that sounds like him, Harry."

Still chuckling a little, Harry went on, "And I bet he never went to secondary school with you because he went off to some boarding school and you only saw him at holidays. Even now, I bet it seems like he's hiding something, and it can sometimes be hard to reach him on his cell phone, correct?" Not letting anyone answer, he drove on, "And I bet he has a daughter who's about eleven whose name is Eleanor."

He could feel Hermione's hand take his again, and grip it tightly. He glanced over to see the light dawning in her eyes, as looks of understanding also came to the faces of Jack and Dianne.

Hermione choked out, "You… you mean Uncle Alden is a wizard, Harry?" Dianne drew a sharp breath on that and Jack started laughing.

Harry nodded and told them, "He's the wizard solicitor I was going to contact."

Jack was still chortling when he gasped out, "Oh the… irony of it all… This is priceless…" He finally managed to stop laughing and added, "I think we can have so much fun with this. I believe, dear," he looked at his wife, "that we should invite the Branstones over for barbecue tomorrow? And perhaps they could come early in the afternoon so the kids can enjoy the pool?"

An impish grin came over her face as Dianne considered the possibilities. She asked, "Harry do you know if his wife, Hazel, is a witch?"

"I believe so, it seems like I heard that she was. I only ever met them one time, and that was in the Leaky Cauldron. They were dressed as Muggles then. Don't they live in a Muggle home?"

The grins of some kind of prank in the works from all three of the Grangers were fairly obvious, though he'd never known Hermione to have a mischievous side to her. But, he decided, maybe he and Ron got up to enough mischief that she felt the need to protect them was stronger than the desire to play pranks. He wondered if her penchant for always following the rules might have been, in part, because of that as well. He'd have to ask her later.

Meanwhile, impromptu plans had been laid quickly by the three Grangers, and Jack said, "I'll just go and ring them now; shall I?" He had a very devilish look in his eyes, and Harry was almost sorry for their friends as the man went into the house.

After giving minor input to the plans with the ladies, and agreeing with them about how funny it should be, he asked Hermione, "How close are you to the Branstones?"

"Very close, Harry. He and Dad are almost like brothers, even though they only see each other a few times a year. I think they got to be best mates as kids because they lived next door to each other. He went off to a boarding school, in Scotland," she smirked, "and Dad was accepted at Eton."

Dianne chimed in, "I've known both he and Hazel since University. They were both in many of my undergraduate classes, were already married, and it always seemed odd they were Jack's age but in my classes. They're all three about four years older than I am. In fact, they introduced Jack and me. I always wondered, as well, why the two of them waited so long to have children, but just chalked it up to them being in school and getting their careers started. Do you suppose," she looked thoughtful, "that they took some sort of reintegration classes to be able to work in the Muggle world. As it happens, he went to law school at Cambridge and she studied medicine. She is an MD, but has always said she works in a research firm in downtown London. I wonder…" but she was cut off by her daughter.

Hermione slapped herself on the forehead. "How could I have been so stupid?" she almost wailed. "The signs were all there, and even some very broad hints. I should have known they were magical. When I was younger I recall Eleanor, and Alden," aside to Harry she clarified, "that's Alden Junior, their son. Anyway, they must have done some accidental magic a few times, but I had done some strange things myself so I thought nothing of it. And, I swear I've seen the handles of their wands poking out of pockets a couple of time. It was before I started Hogwarts so I just didn't make the connection." She laughed wryly at herself then, muttering about all the signs she'd ignored over the years.

Harry and Dianne just looked at each other in amusement, both trying not to laugh at their favourite young genius. He took her hand and rubbed it gently, saying, "Hermione?" She looked up at him, exasperation written all over her face. He asked, using his kindest voice, "Why is it you think you should be perfect, that you aren't allowed to miss things like that. I'm the one who makes all the really dumb mistakes, and you are the one that keeps Ron and me from doing the extremely stupid things. Give yourself a break."

She looked like she wanted to answer, but didn't know what to say. Her mum chipped in, "Good go, Harry, that's the third time today she's been left speechless. You caused them all, by the way."

Hermione's head whipped over to her mother, and she mouthed words that apparently refused to come. But, her face turned beetroot red in an instant, and she refused to look at Harry for a bit. He didn't have the meanness in him to ask what that other situation was; he could only think of the two in that last ten minutes or so.

Having finally found her voice, the bushy haired lovely ground out, "That was not nice, **Mother**!"

Dianne smiled a little sheepishly and said in a contrite tone, "Yes, dear, you are right and I apologize." She looked fondly at her daughter for a moment, but then her rascally look returned, "You have to admit it was funny and you left yourself wide open for it."

Harry was getting a glimmer of why his pretty friend was as smart as she was, and as able to win arguments as she was. He had a good idea, too, as to why she had been such a bossy know-it-all the first year or so, but had settled down, thankfully, the latter part of this year. It seemed to him, it might have been how she defended herself with her parents' frequent playful bantering. He suspected, too, that she had not been at all popular in school before Hogwarts, in large part because she was so smart and competitive.

A lot of things about Hermione were falling into place in Harry's mind. The more he learned about her home life, the more her personality made sense. The more sense that made, the more he thought he understood why she did many of the things she did and how she made up for what she saw as her failings. It seemed she had been a little bit picked on by her parents, but in a good way that made her stronger. Had she not been as smart as she was, it would not have worked, he reckoned. He was glad she was the way she was, and he hoped she would never change. He liked her just fine as she was.

Turning her attention to Harry, Dianne said, "You didn't actually say if you wanted to talk with Alden, dear. I hope that doesn't bother you, him coming here."

Harry smiled at her kindness, and answered, "I don't mind. I think it is best to get this all moving as quickly as possible; don't you?"

Hermione took hold of his hand again and gave it a squeeze, apparently in appreciation for him being understanding if he read her right. He usually did.

Dianne grinned at the forthright young man and said, "Smart thinking, Harry. I couldn't agree more. From what we understand of how the Muggle system works, the sooner the authorities are notified after you leave such a situation, the better it is for you. As well, it seems that if you have a solicitor involved, it helps you get what you want out of it. We don't, naturally, know anything about the Wizarding World's system on child placement."

Harry thought about that and said, "Thank you, Dianne. I really appreciate what you and Jack and Hermione have done for me today. It is very…" but his voice failed him again from an overload of emotion. He didn't know why he kept choking up around these people, but it seemed like he was able to be just Harry, as he'd wanted to be all his life. It simply felt good, and he wasn't at all used to that.

Sensing the distress in her friend, Hermione smiled when her mum reached across the table to clasp a hand over theirs which rested on the table top. The two women shared a knowing smile. They both knew how much he seemed to need this, even if it was tough on his male ego.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

A short distance from the Granger home there was a very nice park with some fairly dense woods taking up a portion of it. Some distance inside those woods was a clearing which few people knew of, and into that clearing a woman appeared with a subdued crack. No one would any longer describe her as beautiful, nor was she unattractive. She appeared to be middle aged, with short grey hair, and had a broad square jaw and thick eyebrows. On most women these features would be unappealing, but on her it all worked. Oddly she also had a monocle dangling from a gold chain around her neck and resting on the front of her long, rather plain dress.

The woman looked about carefully as if to be sure no one had seen her, which in point of fact was exactly what she was doing. She hated Obliviating Muggles over a simple Apparation. Seemingly satisfied no one had seen or heard her, she started moving off into the woods. However, she was brought up short when behind her a second subdued crack announced another person Apparating into the clearing. Spinning around with her wand held in front of her, Amelia Bones took a few moments, in the fading light of evening, to identify someone she had known since she was a student at Hogwarts.

She chuckled and called to her old professor and long-time friend, "What brings the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts to these humble woods?"

Minerva swung about, her own wand at the ready until she recognized the voice and identified her friend by sight, as the other woman walked toward her. She smiled and answered, "Oh, I just thought I'd see what the DMLE would do about a bit of accidental magic over in Little Whinging earlier today." She smirked at Amelia.

"Riiight," Amelia drawled, "I'm very sure you take great interest in the follow-up of lots of cases of accidental magic, now don't you Min."

The older woman laughed and admitted, "Well, not too often; at the most only when they affect students in whom I've taken, shall we say, a personal interest."

"Ah, well that explains that, doesn't it," Amelia smirked back, then laughed as well.

The two women bantered and talked over things of common interest as they made their way toward the Granger residence. As they got closer, Min had to ask, "You don't intend to take any action against Mr Potter, do you, Amelia?"

"Merlin no, we just need to know he is alright, and I wanted to check on some other disturbing things my Head Obliviator briefed me on."

"Mind my asking just what sort of disturbing things? Min asked, a bit too innocently.

Amelia wasn't the head of DMLE for nothing. She had not only been an excellent investigator in her time, but she could smell a rat, as it were, at a hundred paces. She asked, "And what would you be knowing about those disturbing things, my dear friend?" She looked inquisitively at the other woman, a small smile in place; she knew she was being baited a bit.

"Oh, I might know a bit more than your Mr Grenouille," the older woman replied mysteriously.

"Come on, Min, give it up here." They were approaching the house and would have to stop talking about this in a minute. "Just how long," she asked, chuckling, "have you been 'staking out' the Dursley house?"

"Oh, I might have popped by a time or six since the summer term ended."

"Okay, Min, I can tell you have a lot more to say on the matter, so let's talk about this another time, shall we?"

"Agreed, Amelia, and yes, I do have more to say, and much of it may be directed at a certain **interfering old coot of a headmaster**." The last was said with such vehemence, Amelia looked searchingly at her friend. Min continued, "I warned him twelve years ago what those people were like. Whatever your team reported to you, it is only part of the story, I assure you."

Amelia was seldom taken aback these days, but this was shocking news even to her. "Are you telling me Albus Dumbledore placed Mr Potter there? And did so against your advice?"

Sadly, Min replied, "I'm afraid so, and he would not listen to me, and still refuses to see them for what they are. He bases it all on the need for Harry to receive some dubious protection from the magic of Lily's sacrifice."

The Director of DMLE held the Headmaster and Chief Warlock in great esteem, or at least had until just now. She thought for a moment, and then asked what was a very difficult question for her. "Do you know if the Potters had a will, Min, and if so what it said in regards to young Harry?" They had come to a halt on the walk in front of their destination.

"I'm almost certain they did, but I've no idea what it might have included. One thing I do know, is that Lily did not hold her sister in high regard. She rarely spoke of her, and when she did so it was usually some sort of sarcastic comment to James. He didn't like her or her husband at all. I've no idea what caused the animosity specifically, but I can easily guess. I will tell you that the Dursleys are as malicious of the Potters' memories, rest their souls, as anyone could be; and, more importantly, that they absolutely despise magic."

Amelia thought this over, and told her friend, "Lets get together for tea soon and you can tell me all you know. I should probably take a formal statement at some point, but would prefer to speak with you informally first."

"That sounds like a good idea. Just owl me, my schedule is quite flexible for now, as you well know."

The other responded, "Sometimes I wish I had let you talk me into becoming a professor one of the times you asked. I would love some flexible schedule time once in a while."

"Perhaps when you grow tired of the Ministry we can discuss the possibilities again," Min smiled. "For now, shall we?" She indicated the front walk of the Granger residence and the two women approached the house.

Inside, Jack had finished his call to Alden and Hazel, and paused a moment to consider their plans, snickering a bit, but then he sobered. What else, he wondered, could and should be done to help Harry. He knew almost nothing about the Wizarding world, but he did know he and Dianne had done as much as possible up to this point. It would now be up to the system, though he hoped having Alden involved would make that flow more smoothly and quickly than he'd heard it often did. It was almost assured that Alden would get involved, but he also knew that he and Dianne would fight tooth and nail to keep the boy away from the Dursleys. Just as he finished his ruminations and started back toward the patio, the doorbell rang and he altered his course to answer it.

His jaw dropped when he opened the door to find two older women, one he knew and one he didn't. Reclaiming his aplomb, Jack smiled and said, "Professor McGonagall, what a pleasant surprise, or at least I hope it is." A dark thought crossed his mind as he realized she could be here on Dumbledore's orders.

The witch smiled and told him, "It is nice to see you again, Mr Granger, and shall be a pleasant visit as well, I hope. I have no reason to think you'll not like what I have to say." It was somewhat cryptic, but Jack smiled in return.

"Where are my manners, I apologize, would you please come in, both of you?" He smiled, slightly embarrassed at leaving the two standing on the porch while they talked.

Once inside, the professor said, "Mr Granger, may I present the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Amelia Bones." When his look darkened again slightly, she added. "I assure you neither of us is here for anything but to see that Harry is alright, and neither of us knew the other was coming until a few minutes ago." To her friend she said, "Amelia, this nice gentleman is Jack Granger."

Jack smiled at the other woman, saying, "Welcome, Madam Bones," he reached out to shake her proffered hand. "I do hope you will forgive me, but we have just been discussing certain things which are a bit unpleasant, and I'm afraid I am not as highly enamoured of the Wizarding World right now, and certain people in it, as I might be."

"Quite alright, Mr Granger," the amiable witch smiled at him, "after some of the things I have heard this evening, your attitude is quite understandable. I assume Mr Potter is staying here?"

Glancing at Professor McGonagall who was still smiling, although a bit sadly, he replied, "Yes, Madam, he is. May I ask why the two of you are here?" He was feeling quite protective of the young man he'd only just begun to know.

The Professor replied, "It is nothing untoward, I assure you again, it is just that we both are concerned with Mr Potter's well being."

The other witch added, "As for me, I need to wrap up what occurred at Mr Potter's… relatives' home this afternoon. It is in no way detrimental to the lad, believe me. But I do wish to ask him about a few other things if he is willing to speak with me. I assume you were there at the time the incident occurred?" She seemed to be on the verge of laughing, and the professor was surely stifling laughter, so he was reasonably certain it was going to be fine. He did wonder over the pause she had not quite covered up.

"We were there, yes, and I can assure you that what Harry did was fully justifiable. Had it been me I might have done far worse."

"So I'm led to believe," Madam Bones replied.

Gesturing toward the rear of the house, he told them, "The rest of the family, including Harry, is out on the patio. Would the both of you care to join us?" At the women's nods and affirmatives, he led them out to the others.

The three on the patio were somewhat surprised to see two women accompanying Jack when he returned, though they had heard the doorbell. Dianne had surmised to the others it was probably a door-to-door seller of some sort. The first woman looked vaguely familiar to Harry, but he couldn't place her. She was fairly tall, middle aged, and appeared to be the no-nonsense type, like Professor McGonagall who, incidentally, appeared right behind the other. Upon seeing their deputy headmistress, the two youths jumped to their feet looking expectantly at her, both with trepidation in their smiles. Dianne also rose to her feet, though more slowly.

Jack started the introductions, "Madam Bones may I present my wife, Dianne. Across from her is our daughter, Hermione, and the handsome fellow by her is Harry Potter. Everyone, this is Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And, of course, we all know Professor McGonagall." He smiled, then stepped away to get a pair of chairs for the guests.

Harry did a mental slap to the forehead as he realized where he should have known the woman from, but yet again had intentionally not accessed the future memories. He shook the proffered hand she held out, after she'd greeted the ladies. Looking at her inquiringly, he said, "It's nice to meet you, ma'am. Susan always speaks highly of you.

She smiled and returned his greeting, adding, "And of you as well, Mr Potter."

He turned then to other guest and said, "Good evening, Professor, I have to say I'm surprised to see either of you, but together?" Speaking to both he fairly blurted, "If I had to guess, I'd reckon your visit has something to do with the, erm, incident at my relatives'house earlier today?" It was said as a question, nervously, though he knew it was true, and he'd intentionally stressed the one word. He was almost sure this had to be very bad news indeed to bring these two powerful women here this evening, and was getting more and more anxious.

"Thank you, Mr Potter," McGonagall replied," and please be at ease. No one is here to do anything to you; we might be able to do some things for you, however. That we came at the same time was, I assure you, quite coincidental."

Both women then took the seats Jack offered, between Hermione and Dianne, and thanked him. As they sat down, Harry and Hermione's hands found one another, almost without thought, for mutual reassurance. Dianne asked the women what she could get them and both settled on tea.

When they were all seated, Madam Bones then said, "Mr Potter, I came to talk with you about the incident, yes. But, I have some other questions for you as well, if you'd be willing to speak with me." She smiled in a friendly manner.

"I don't mind, ma'am," he returned her smile, still a bit apprehensively. "but if you don't mind my new family listening in, I would appreciate it."

Her eyebrows rose at his comments, but she nodded her head. "That's quite alright, though I hope I don't embarrass you in front of them with my questions."

"I'm sure it'll be fine, ma'am," he replied easily, smiling as he glanced around at the Grangers. He got three large, encouraging smiles in return.

"I'll get right to it then, shall I?" At his nod, she told him kindly, "I mostly wanted to reassure you there would be no repercussions from the incident at your… relatives' home." She had paused as if to recall and copy his term for the Dursleys, he thought. "We always like to let young people know this, when such occurs, especially if they leave the scene right away."

Jack noted and wondered again at her pause in how she referred to the Dursleys. It made him think she knew more about the situation there than she had yet to reveal.

Harry thought for a second, and responded, "Thank you, Madam Bones; I wasn't too worried about it, even if I did receive a warning because a house-elf used magic there last summer. I suppose my Aunt told you I'd be here?"

Her eyebrows rose at the mention of that other incident, but she asked, "Would you be willing to talk with me about what your living conditions were like in that home. For that matter, could you explain why a house-elf was in your Muggle home, and what you meant when you referred to the Grangers as your new family?"

Harry took a moment to collect his thoughts, as Hermione gave his hand a quick squeeze, then letting go again. He flashed her a smile, glanced to see Jack and Dianne smiling encouragement and started with, "I hope to make Mr and Mrs, or should that be Dr and Dr Granger, my guardians. I plan to never return to that… place… **ever**!" He ended his comments fervently.

Looking down at the table, he paused a moment to calm himself and catch his breath. The anger he felt toward the Dursleys and the MOB could easily fire him up. No one spoke while he did so, and he was glad since it helped him to again collect his thoughts.

"Before I get to the other thing, Dobby was the Malfoy's house elf, and he came to warn me of the trouble Mr Malfoy was planning to cause at Hogwarts this past year. For some reason the little fellow took it in mind to try to keep me from going back to school, and made several attempts to do so, all of which turned out rather badly for me. I guess that's what you wanted to know, about why he was at my relatives' house?"

She nodded, but asked. "Am I to understand, Mr Potter, that Lucius Malfoy was the cause of all that happened there, all the students being petrified and whatnot?"

"Yes, ma'am. He slipped a diary of Tom Riddle's into Ginny Weasley's cauldron last summer, and it turned out to be cursed in some way. It was her, being possessed by the sixteen year old boy who later became Voldemort," the two women flinched, but he pressed on, "who opened the Chamber of Secrets and let the basilisk into the school several times."

"I have heard rumours, Mr Potter, that it was you who killed that vile creature?"

Harry was decidedly uncomfortable at having to talk about this again, but told her, "Yes, ma'am. I had the help of Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix who brought me the sorting hat. Gryffindor's sword came out of it, then Fawkes blinded the basilisk and I was able to shove the sword through the top of its mouth. I had a fang go through my arm when that happened, but Fawkes healed the wound. I used the fang to destroy the diary which made Riddle disappear. He had taken over Ginny and she was dying. I think he was sucking out her life force or something to bring himself back to life."

Amelia was astounded by the tale. It was even more astonishing than the rumours. It was easy to see that talking about it bothered the boy, so she didn't press for more details. Perhaps she could get more later out of Min or Albus. She asked, "Mr Potter, let's switch topics now, if you don't mind. As I said before, I would like to know what your living conditions were like at the Dursleys. I know it is probably difficult for you to talk about, but please tell me what you can.

Harry was greatly relieved the witch wanted to move on. Even talking about the

Dursleys was easier than going into more detail about that incident. "Madam Bones, I don't know much about this, but do you want a… what do you call it? A formal statement? Is that what you need from me?"

"Not just yet, Mr Potter, why don't you just give me some general information for now, and see where that leads us."

"Alright then, I can do that, ma'am." He thought again for a moment, "I want you to know I want to hire a solicitor who can help me in both worlds to get guardianship given to the Grangers. It turns out these wonderful people know a wizarding solicitor who works in both world and who we think can do that, though they didn't know he was a wizard until a few minutes ago." Pausing, he smirked at Jack for a moment, which was returned with a devilish grin. Harry then went on to tell the DMLE Head what he thought about the Dursleys, how they had treated him, and how the headmaster had placed him there and insisted he keep returning.

Telling about the Dursleys was hard for him to do, even with his improved outlook on life. It was extremely embarrassing, and behind it all was the fear that he could wind up back there and be severely punished for his actions. As most abused children are prone to, he hated talking about the abuse. He just knew, deep down, that at least part of it was his fault somehow. But he finished his monologue with an upbeat message, though a stern one, that he was now living with the Grangers and that would only change at his extreme displeasure. He added at the end, "I assure you, Madam Bones, that should I be forced to leave here several people will strongly regret sticking their overly long noses into my private business."

When Harry was finished Madam Bones just sat looking at him for several long moments in a heavy silence which had descended over the patio. Professor McGonagall looked to be in shock, Jack and Dianne looked to be fuming – and perhaps scheming – and Hermione had unshed tears on her lashes as she clung almost desperately to his hand.

When Madam Bones finally spoke, it sounded to Harry (as well as Hermione) like she was barely holding her anger in check. Though her facial expression had hardly changed, she now looked quite fierce and dangerous. "Mr Potter," she asked, "may I assume from your actions and from what you said that you would be willing to file formal complaints against them in both worlds?"

Harry thought for a moment, and nodded. "Yes, Madam Bones, I would be more than happy to do that. However, there are some things I was just about to tell my new family here which I think you should hear." He hated to do so, but had accessed the future memories before speaking. He now knew from those that he could trust both of these women implicitly and decided to do so now. "Professor McGonagall, I would like you to know what I have to say as well. The reasons I am here now go well beyond the situation with the Dursley's and I must ask you both to keep this in the strictest confidence."

As the others observed and listened to the young wizard, a change came over him. His face and tone of voice seemed to grow considerably older. While he didn't have lines or wrinkles yet on his youthful face, he somehow seemed to age and there was a fire in the depths of those green orbs that both Minerva and Hermione knew they had never seen before. All were a bit taken aback.

Meanwhile, the young wizard was staring at the notebook he'd brought down with him, trying to decide how he should start the discussion. He didn't want to just blurt out that he'd woken up thinking he was thirty-seven, then got all confused because he knew he was not yet thirteen but still had those future memories. Twice on their way home, Dianne had diverted Hermione's attention as she started to ask about this, but now he could feel his friend nearly vibrating with anticipation of what he was about to say. He decided that maybe blurting wasn't so bad after all.

The two older witches nodded assent to his request, and the professor asked, "Harry, do you want magical oaths from us that we will keep this between us. You seem to… I don't quite know how to say it, but you appear to have the weight of the world on your shoulders and you look older."

Harry sighed, and knew this was not going to be easy at all, even with the help of his future self, or whatever. Jack and Dianne were looking at him with undisguised curiosity, though he thought he detected a lot of warmth there as well. He glanced at Hermione, then held her gaze for a moment. It was as if she was sending encouragement and strength to him and he nodded at her.

Turning back to the inquiring looks of the two older witches he told them, smiling, "No, Professor, Madam, I do not need oaths from you. I know beyond a doubt that I can trust you both implicitly. How I know that will, or at least should, become clear in a few minutes."

Minerva now wondered not only at the young wizard's changing expression, but now at his changed speech. She'd interacted with him numerous of times over the past two years, and knew he never spoke in this more adult manner with this kind of vocabulary.

For his part, Harry looked back down at the notebook and decided on a course for his revelations. He turned first to Hermione, and asked, "Do you trust me to do the right thing in all situations to the best of my ability?"

The young witch was confused, but nodded, unable to speak. She feared something really dreadful was about to come out of her friend's mouth.

He turned then to her parents, and said, "I am going to have to ask you to take a very large leap of faith for a few minutes. I hope that, in the end," he looked again at Hermione, "the three of you will understand what I have to say, and that I am no different, not where it counts, than you, Hermione, have always known me to be."

Jack and Dianne expressed agreement, and the woman added, "As we told you before, Harry, Hermione trusts you and she is a very good judge of character for someone so young." Then she smiled, though very quizzically.

Hermione just kept her near death-grip on his hand and gave him a tentative smile. He squeezed her hand in what he hoped was reassurance.

"Okay, here goes then. First, I need to ask you, Professor, if you were aware that Snape and my mother were friends, or at least friendly, when they were younger."

"Professor Snape, Mr Potter," she corrected automatically, though without her usual insistent tone. She then seemed to be lost in thought for a few moments before her eyes focused on him again and she replied. "I seem to recall that even though they were in different Houses, which as you know are traditionally not all that friendly with each other, they did spend a lot of time studying together in the first few years. I believe it was after fifth year that they stopped doing so. I don't recall them ever having a public row or such like, but they did seem to drift apart. It seems odd that I recall those things, as I rarely pay very close attention to the relationships between the students." She winked at the two, who smiled in partial understanding. She concluded with, "I suppose it was because they were from the two Houses which are so often at each other's throats, so to speak."

Minerva looked at her long-time friend who coughed on that last statement, apparently aspirating a bit of tea. It only took Madam Bones a moment to regain her composure, and she told the professor, "That is the understatement of the millennium." She smirked. "Hufflepuffs always stood back and watched them try to tear each other apart. We found it quite amusing; the Ravenclaws do as well, I'm told."

McGonagall smiled at the other witch and nodded, "I believe Pomona and Filius may have mentioned that a time or twelve." She winked again at the youngsters, and sat back looking expectantly at Harry. "I hope I answered your question," she stated.

Harry smiled at the byplay between the two witches. It was clear they'd been friends for a long time. He recalled from the future that Minerva had been quite upset over the death of Amelia Bones, though he didn't find that out until a conversation with the professor some years after the fact.

Harry wanted desperately to keep his friend now that they were growing closer as well as the relationship he had developed with her parents in the short time he'd known them. So, it was with a considerable amount of trepidation that he started speaking.

…TBC…

**A/N:** The chapter title is a song by Alabama. Mike Grenouille is named for one of my betas. He told me, after I reading this, that grenouille is French for frog. Go figure… SOP is police/military speak for standard operating procedure.

A reviewer on my group mentioned that Hermione seemed "blushing and clingy" in this chapter. I don't really intend for her to be different in this story than in canon, but keep in mind she is only thirteen at this time and has had a very emotional and stressful day. Therefore, her actions may seem a bit out of character, but I think they are in keeping with a child of that age. And yes, I know Harry blushed a lot too, but he isn't even thirteen yet, and is reacting to things as appropriately as Hermione and for the same reasons. Someone also commented on an earlier chapter that Harry would miss his family from the future. This reviewer obviously missed, as one beta put it, "the schizophrenic Harry". In other words, he keeps his two sets of memories and two personalities separate. Thanks as always for reading, and a special thanks to Tommy and Mike for Brit picking and beta reading the story.


	5. Chapter 4 Please Don't Let Me Be

The Inimitably Inspired, Indubitably Irreverent Harry Potter Do-Over

**By**

Herman Tumbleweed

**Disclaimer:** Full quasi-legal disclaimer in Prologue. However, if you do in fact still believe that anyone beside Jo Rowling and several corporate entities owns any part of Harry Potter, then please meet me for lunch tomorrow at Joe's Bar and Grill on Third and Main, your treat of course.

**A/N: Caution!** Character bashing ahead. If you really and truly still like the two youngest Weasleys and the MOB after reading HBP and DH, then you might not like some of what happens in this chapter. And, for anyone who forgot, MOB stands for Manipulative Old Buz… er, Bas…er, Bustard (a cross between Buzzard and that other word). I've corrected that deficiency now, I think, in the first chapter. I also just found out there actually is a bird called a bustard, go figure.

Chapter Four: Please Don't Let Me be Misunderstood

In a part of the forests of Albania seldom visited by people, and only then by those of extremely stout heart, a wraith-like entity experienced agony as the snake it had inhabited for some few weeks began dying. The large snake's death throes were painful for the entity because it had not anticipated the death of the creature it occupied, as it normally would have. This was occurring much sooner than expected. The entity had been plotting on how to make its "associates" pay for all the years it waited for their assistance. In this state of absentmindedness it had not realized quickly enough that the creature was expiring sooner, it had to admit, than they usually did. It wondered momentarily if it was getting stronger. as it seemed at times, and if this was the reason the creatures seemed not to be lasting as long.

Finally the wraith was able to extract itself from the wretched snake, leaving the creature to those agonizing final moments. It drifted into a tree where it holed up awaiting its inevitable return to greatness, while continuing its contemplation of how to strike even more fear into the hearts of some of those it had counted on. The fact that it had failed with that bloody fool a year previous at Hogwarts, stymied once more by that Potter brat, incensed it and made the waiting that much harder.

In the only bedroom on the topmost floor of a house, just beneath the attic, a rat slept rather soundly in the sun of the window sill. Time had been good to the rodent and it had had little to do for nearly twelve years now. Occasionally it would sneak out of the house at night and transform into the human it was born as. Then, Apparating to Ottery St. Catchpole or some other small village, it would enjoy an evening in a pub filling itself on a good meal and ale, while partaking of the gossip and occasional free entertainment. Always it was careful to return as soon as the pub closed and sneak back into the ramshackle home, unnoticed by any of the occupants.

The rat had been rather amused that the Potter boy had stayed with the family and him, said rodent right under the bastard's nose, not to mention through two whole years at Hogwarts. Also, it knew it should not have been possible for the little whelp to have escaped his master, apparently, twice more now. But he knew, as well, that one day the Dark Lord would return, and dreamed of the day when he would help the master to become great once again. Of course those dreams always showed the rat/human rising to greatness himself soon after.

Far to the north, on a barren bit of land laughably called an island stood a stone fortress as forbidding as any ever known, the kind of place to give saints nightmares. In an average cell was a not-so-average prisoner. Few were ever sent here who were totally innocent. Although, a few now and then were temporarily incarcerated by some asinine Ministry moron who "_had to be seen to be doing something for the safety of the populace_". However, this prisoner, while never in danger of sainthood, was in fact totally innocent of the charges for which he was deposited here.

Another difference about this prisoner was that he was still quite sane, and the reason for that was because he was innocent and knew it, along with one other oddity about him. The man was an animagus and could turn himself into his animal form, wherein he was less affected by the loathsome things which guarded this barely habitable fortress.

The Dementors guarding Azkaban normally drove anyone there imprisoned insane within a few years at most. But this man had been here more than a decade, nearly twelve years in fact. Still, he was not exactly the picture of health either. The poor conditions of the prison coupled with the effects of the foul Dementors had taken their toll on the once handsome and fit young man. Now, at thirty-four years of age, he appeared much older, well past fifty at least. As time went on, he seemed to age even more rapidly. While he hadn't seen a mirror since being entombed here, he felt the difference and often wondered when it would all end, one way or another.

He had only two things to live for now; he longed to see, and probably kill, the one who had framed him for the horrendous deeds the Ministry and public believed him responsible for. And he yearned to see his only godson one more time. If he could only achieve those things some day it would all be worth it, or so he told himself. If only…

Speaking to the DMLE Head, Harry stated, "First, I have to ask you a couple of questions, Madam Bones." She inclined her head in acknowledgment, so he continued. "If I were to give you information on the whereabouts of a person who framed someone else for what was believed to be a terrible betrayal and several murders, and then could help you locate an escaped Death Eater who was removed by his father from Azkaban, would you take that all at face value and utilize it to bring justice to all four?" He noticed Professor McGonagall's eyebrows rose considerably on the first item, and assumed she knew who he meant.

Madam Bones looked taken aback for a moment, but nodded although she looked sceptical, and asked, "Within reason, of course, Mr Potter; but what is this about?"

"If you could bear with me until I get there in the tale I must tell, I'll explain what I mean shortly, ma'am. My second question for you, if I may, is that if you had such information, would you be willing to act without revealing the source." He was fairly sure the witch would do this for him, but was somewhat surprised, actually, that she wasn't interrogating him already.

Amelia was wondering where the boy was going with all this, but given his history, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for now. She was thoughtful for a moment, then put on a sly look and replied, "I believe that if you were to give me sufficient cause to believe you, Mr Potter, I would do everything in my power to honour your request and bring those people the justice they deserve or have been denied without bringing your name into it if at all possible. I think I can honestly say that most of my life and _all of my_ career have been dedicated to the pursuit of justice and truth." She also thought to herself that with where the young man's questions were leading, she was glad she'd had supper at the Ministry in a meeting with some other department heads. It seemed like this could take a while.

"Thank you Madam, and I have to ask you, all of you really, to be patient with me so I can tell all of this in mostly one go. It will make a lot more sense if it is all taken in context." Harry thought for a few more seconds, knowing he was stalling because he didn't want to appear completely foolish, or mental. At a slight hand squeeze from Hermione, he straightened his shoulders and leaned forward to take a drink from his glass.

He gave his friend one more smile and then a pleading look. "Hermione, what I am about to tell could affect how you might think and feel about me. I hope it won't, though, because you really are the best friend I could ever ask for. Please remember that, alright?"

She looked very worried at that, but said, "Alright then, Harry. I know you'd never intentionally hurt me, nor would you do anything too terribly wrong unless it was to save someone, or for something very important. You've proven that a few times already."

He nodded his appreciation and added cheekily, "Besides, this is where you get all that luscious information you've been craving since this morning."

Acting very mature, she stuck out her tongue at him, and swatted his arm playfully. Everyone laughed, though Minerva, observing the interplay between the two children, felt a chill go down her spine. It was odd, but somehow she knew she was looking at the future leaders of Wizarding society. She was quite intrigued with what young Harry had said so far. However, she was also hesitant about what he could possibly have to say that would need such promises of secrecy. She too knew his history, far better than Amelia, so she was willing to listen patiently to him for now.

Harry tried to put all his feelings into the look he gave Hermione as he smiled softly and said, "Okay, here goes then. I'm afraid this may sound somewhat disjointed at first, but I'm going to try to relate what happened in chronological order." He looked over the adults then, who appeared concerned, or sceptical in the case of a certain law enforcement official, and then called up his Gryffie courage again to start his crazy tale.

"This morning when I woke up, I thought I'd had a very weird dream. It felt like I was a thirty-seven year old me trapped in my twelve year old body. I was blubbering over having Hedwig back, because she had been killed the summer after we finished our sixth year at Hogwarts." Hermione gasped, so he smiled reassuringly at her, and aside to Madam Bones he added, "She's my owl." He continued, saying, "To say the least, I was really confused because if it was a dream then it was the most vivid one on record."

He could see from the looks of the others that they were wondering where he was going with this. "To be clearer as to why that is important, it wasn't long until I realized that this was not merely a dream, but something much more. They were… future memories for lack of a better term. "

"It was very early, and I sat there talking to… well, to myself for a few minutes, although arguing with myself would be more like it." He swallowed and grinned sheepishly before going on. "I was eventually able to convince the future memories, or personality I suppose, that **I** was in charge of this life and that **it** was going to take a back seat to what **I** wanted. To say the least, this was all quite bewildering, but I soon realized the memories could possibly be very important. Over the next few hours, I gained enough control to where I could shut off those memories, the... uh... personality, at will and be the one in control." He smiled, hoping they all understood that, but didn't want to take time to speak more about it just now.

"That is what I've been doing almost all day," he continued "except for when I was writing in this notebook," which he laid his hand on. "You see, I remembered everything, in a general way, that's occurred for a bit more than the next 24 years. But the important topics for the moment are the things I asked Madam Bones about and, what relates to Voldemort and his second war." Having dropped the bombshell, he waited for the reactions which ranged among total disbelief from Hermione, to utter shock from the older witches, to considerable bafflement by Jack and Dianne. Of course the older witches had flinched at the casual use of the name.

After giving them a moment, he asked, "Jack, Dianne, you do know who that is?"

Jack replied, "Yes, Harry, we both read the books about the Wizarding World we bought Hermione when we found out she was a witch, but we were under the impression he was dead!"

"Yes, technically I killed him that night nearly twelve years ago, but vanquished would be the better term. Many believe he is still around, and he is, I assure you, as a sort of ghost. It is, in fact, a portion of his soul." The older witches gasped at that and he grimaced at them. "I'll explain that another time, if I may." They nodded, so he went on. "According to those memories, he was resurrected and then started another war, one which nearly devastated the wizarding world."

The boy paused then and Amelia thought, "_And here I was all set to visit briefly and go home for a nice relaxing evening. Hmm, on second thought, this could be a lot more fun."_

Next to her, Minerva was thinking something similar. "_Well, you had to come see the boy was alright, now the cat's among the pixies, as Arabella would say_." She chuckled quietly.

Jack and Dianne were thinking variations on the theme, "_What the fuck? I know wizards come up with some weird shit, but wow!"_

And sitting next to Harry, the young witch thought, "_Okay, Hermione, you've been through some really strange things with Harry, so just buck up and be cool. You really like him, and it's obvious he likes you, so not to worry, right? Er, alright, we know the Wizarding World contains a great many ancient and little known magics, so who knows what could have happened? Just be cool, this is your best friend no matter what happens! Yeah, that's it." _She smiled in encouragement at Harry, hoping it didn't look like a grimace.

Done collecting his thoughts, Harry grinned and went on, "After getting myself sorted, and since I had time this morning, I decided to write down everything I could remember from this future that was so vivid in my mind. So, for the next couple of hours, before I had to fix breakfast for the Dursleys, I wrote down everything I could remember happening over the next five years, and well beyond that."

"I think I'm going to need a lot of help," Harry told them, "which is why I asked all of you to hear this. However, let's get on with the story. Er, mostly, I'm just going to hit the high points and bring out what I was speaking of earlier, Madam Bones, so you don't strangle me over the suspense." He grinned at her and she smiled back.

Amelia was thinking_, "How does this kid know what I might be thinking. He sure has my attention, though. I've seen some strange magical effects in my time, so who knows?"_

Harry continued, "Getting on with it, I wrote what I could remember for a couple of hours until it was time for me to make breakfast for my relatives. While doing that, I had time to think, and naturally remembered more things for the notebook. I also thought of a lot I can do to short circuit his return, which happened at the end of our fourth year by the way. But, perhaps the most important of what occurred to me was an idea on how to verify that I hadn't dreamed or imagined all of it."

"Hermione can tell you," he added, grinning, "that my imagination is fairly good, but not that good." They all smiled a little at that.

"Now, for something I think you'll find rather interesting, Professor," he smiled at his transfiguration teacher, "this is where what I asked you about earlier comes in. After breakfast, when I had gotten the kitchen all spiffy for Aunt Petunia, I sat down for tea at the kitchen table, where she was reading a magazine, then asked her a simple question." He looked at Hermione, as he said, "I asked her if she had ever known someone called Severus Snape."

He grinned at the girl's look of surprise, and then glanced over to see an equally shocked expression on McGonagall. Continuing, he said, "She instantly looked horrified and started to ask how I knew him, but then vehemently told me she didn't want to know if I had met that devil incarnate, or how. The 'devil incarnate' bit is a direct quote, just so you know."

Minerva and Amelia both seemed pensive over his revelation. He could see they now understood why he'd asked about his mother and Snape earlier.

For clarification Harry added, "Petunia's reaction is why I'm reasonably certain the memories are real. Not sure of anything else I could use to verify it right now aside from that Arthur Weasley will win the Daily Prophet Annual Galleon draw soon, whenever that is held. There's also another event in the near future, which I'll talk about next, because I'd like to prevent it if possible."

"As for how Petunia knew Snape, it is because when they were all children he frightened her and my mum with a bit of magic, and then explained magic to my mother and told her she was a witch and he a wizard. Later on, at school, I think my mum tried to be nice to Snape because that is the way everyone says she was. I'm also fairly sure he deeply regrets that my mum was killed, because in part it was as a result of something he did. I seriously doubt, though, that she ever knew he carried a torch for her all those years."

Hermione interjected, "You had no way of knowing, maybe even from a conversation you might have overheard and forgot, that Petunia knew Professor Snape? And how do you know he had feelings for your mum?"

Shaking his head, he answered, "It wasn't until around five years from now when I learned about Snape knowing my mum before they went to Hogwarts. He is not from a pureblood family as he'd have everyone believe, just so you know," he smirked at Hermione's huge eyes. "Apparently his mother was a witch, but his father was a Muggle. Truthfully, Hermione, if I'd heard anything like that I'm sure I'd remember it because they never spoke about my parents except to say they were… awful people." He'd told them all about that earlier, but it still elicited growls of anger and frustration from the others.

"What you say about Professor Snape's ancestry is quite true," Minerva put in, "and it is a secret he guards very jealously. I'd caution you from even letting him know you know it, and even more from spreading it about. It could conceivably cost him his life."

Harry and Hermione both nodded solemnly in reply to her admonition. He then told the confused looking Jack and Dianne, "There are still a great number of Death Eaters at large, that's what Voldemort called his followers. His whole thing was to promote so-called pureblood supremacy," which caused the three witches to snort, but he went on, smiling at them, "and if any of them found out he was not a pureblood they wouldn't take too kindly to it. I'm surprised he's still alive, truth be told, given that Professor Dumbledore made it clear he was a spy for him after Voldemort was vanquished."

The elderly witch nodded in approval, then said, "On another note, I believe the way you speak now, as opposed to your normal speech lends veracity to your claim as well, Harry." Hermione voiced her agreement.

"Now," Minerva went on, "not to change the subject, Mr Potter, but I didn't tell you this earlier and I should have. I argued with Professor Dumbledore the night he left you on that doorstep. I wish I had been more adamant with him because I already knew what they were like, and for that you have my most sincere apologies."

Harry smiled sadly at the stern witch who could also be so kindly. "Professor, given what I now know about the illustrious headmaster, I doubt very seriously if you could have talked him out of that. Later I can tell you more as to why, but it really is spilled potions now, all we can do is try to rectify it as best we can." He was surprised at being able to keep most of the sarcasm out of his voice when referring to the MOB.

The older witch's response was, "Thank you, Harry, you are a very wise young man. I've always felt there was much more to you than most would think."

He smiled and blushed at the compliment. To Hermione, he said, "I'll answer your question about my mum a little later, if that's alright."

With a small smile, the young witch replied, "I can wait, Harry. I believe in you." Nothing else really needed to be said aloud, as they gazed at one another. Their silent exchange was as clear to them as if they voiced their thoughts.

The level of unspoken communication between the two again amazed the Grangers, along with Amelia now. Minerva just smiled to herself, she'd seen this before several times and it always reminded her of Harry's parents in their last year at Hogwarts.

After the few moments of silence Harry asked, "Alright then, back to the story?" At affirming nods, he chuckled and grinned cheekily, "This ought to blow a few minds, and Madam Bones, this is one of the items I referred to before. In a couple of weeks Fudge is going to visit Azkaban and be surprised that Sirius Black, who is my godfather," Hermione gasped, but he kept going, "is as sane as he still is. He will ask for the newspaper Fudge is carrying, saying he likes to do the crosswords. What Black will see on the front page is a picture of the Weasleys in Egypt where Arthur will take the family for most of a month with his winnings from the Prophet's annual galleon draw. In that picture Sirius will see something that will cause him to start muttering, _"He's at Hogwarts, he's at Hogwarts"_, over and over."

Harry could tell that this pronouncement gave the older witches the same conclusion it had in the last timeline. They were instantly sure the infamous murderer was after his one missed victim. That the young wizard could then see on their faces that they were starting to doubt that conclusion, told him they were following his story closely.

"Shortly after that he will escape from Azkaban, which, supposedly, no one has ever done before." He explained the prison to the Grangers, and then went on. "Needless to say, the whole Wizarding World will get extremely upset, and a lot of really bad things happen because of it. They even tell the Muggles to keep an eye out for him. I can tell you more about that later if you want, but first I want to get to the point of this.

"At the end of our next year of school Hermione, Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin, and I would find out Black didn't do what he was thrown in prison for, without benefit of a trial I might add." The last was said bitterly and then aside to Dianne and Jack, he explained, "Black was supposed to have betrayed my parents to Voldemort. Peter Pettigrew is the man who Black reportedly murdered along with a dozen Muggles. The two of them, along with a man named Remus Lupin, were all very close friends of my parents. Lupin is probably going to be the next Defence teacher." He grinned at McGonagall who had a stern, if inquiring, look on her face.

"Now here's the rub," Harry went on, "Sirius, my dad, and Peter became animagi in their fifth year so they could help out their friend Remus, who just so happens to be a werewolf." Hermione gasped at the animagi revelation and again at the werewolf comment, but he ignored her momentarily, busy smirking at McGonagall who had a hand over her mouth in extreme surprise. Amelia indicated she knew of Lupin's condition, but was also surprised the boys became animagi so young. He clarified that even though Remus was a werewolf Dumbledore had let him attend Hogwarts and explained the precautions taken.

He turned to the girl beside him and told her, "Yes, Hermione, it is very difficult to become an animagus, but my dad became a Stag, Sirius a large black dog that looks a lot like the mythical Grim, truth be told, and **Pettigrew **is a **rat**." He fairly spat the name and genus of his form, then added acidly, "Rather apropos considering what he did later," he added with a touch of anger.

"Despite what Professor Dumbledore told the world, and I have reason to believe he knew the truth but I can't prove it, Peter Pettigrew was my parents' secret keeper, not Sirius Black. It was the rat who betrayed us to Voldemort," the two older witches cringed again, "and he was the one who blew up the street and killed all those people." Harry smiled a bit when he said, "Sorry, I know that name makes you uncomfortable, but frankly the… creature just pisses me off." The two older witches nodded that it was alright, but looked pensive at his revelations.

To the Grangers, who looked a bit lost again, he said, "An animagus is someone who can transfigure themselves into a specific animal form at will. And even though Lupin is a werewolf there is now a potion he can take which makes him into just a docile large wolf on the full-moon nights. The rest of the time he is one of the kindest, gentlest people you'll ever meet."

They nodded looking amazed by it all. "We knew about witches and wizards being able to transform into animals," Jack said. "We just didn't know what they called it. Professor McGonagall demonstrated when she visited before Hermione's first year. It still seems so fantastic, though."

Harry then added, for their benefit and Hermione's, that his parents' home had been protected by the Fidelius charm and explained how that worked. Upon finishing, his younger personality seemingly took over automatically and he realize he'd used several swear words in telling his tale so far. He blushed and apologized to everyone, but it was waved off as nothing of consequence given who and what he'd been discussing.

Getting back on track, Harry said, "The reason I'm telling you all of this, is that I'd rather try to get Sirius cleared before Fudge's visit to Azkaban, or at least have a trial scheduled. I know exactly where the rat is; I've shared a dormitory with him and my four roommates for the past two school years."

He was treated to two identical shocked gasps and cries of outrage from Hermione and McGonagall. He merely nodded and went on, "From that picture of the Weasleys with Wormtail on Ron's shoulder, that's Pettigrew's nickname by the way, Wormtail, Sirius will know he can catch him at Hogwarts in September. Fudge, in his infinite stupidity will station Dementors around Hogwarts this fall in hopes of catching him. If you were look closely at the rat in the Prophet picture, you'll notice he's missing a front toe. How much of Pettigrew did they find?" He explained that reference to the Grangers, and about the foul creatures which guarded Azkaban.

Never let it be said his head of house was slow on the uptake. Minerva growled, "Ronald Weasley, and his brother Percival before that. Why did it never occur to me how long that rat has been around. They never live more than three or four years at most, and that makes it over seven years old since I know Percy had it before coming to Hogwarts." She then looked angry and quite pensive.

Madam Bones looked extremely shocked at that disclosure, but then assumed a calculating look. As well, she appeared to have several questions, but held them when Harry raised his hand to forestall her for a few minutes. "Madam Bones I know this all sounds fantastic, but I can and will start proving this in a short while, at least as best I can." Again she nodded her assent and assumed an air of highly interested patience.

He thought for a second, and because he didn't want to keep putting her off too long, Harry smirked. "I can in fact show you partial proof right now, I think. Would you care to cover me for a small bit of underage magic, ma'am?"

The woman had to admit the lad had her thoroughly intrigued, especially after Minnie's comment about the longevity of the Weasley's pet rat. She smiled and said, "If it will help us get the ball rolling in clearing your godfather, then by all means, Mr Potter, feel free. I will take care of any repercussions."

He was fairly sure his magic was strong enough for what he had in mind, so he asked, "Hermione, Professor, have either of you ever seen or heard of me having any special lessons?" Both voiced their denial, so he asked, a bit sheepishly, "And you both know I'm not the greatest student and not inclined to study much on my own, correct?" They both nodded again, smiling quizzically at him.

He smiled and pointed his wand out into the garden, he'd drawn it so fast none of them but Amelia saw it come out, and she only barely. She was impressed, to say the least, and was about to be even more amazed.

Thinking of how Hermione was beginning to make him feel, Harry said in a calm voice, "Expecto Patronum!" Prongs leapt from his wand fully formed and investigated the garden for enemies for a couple of minutes before it came back to him, bowed and dissipated.

While Prongs put on his show, the others were speechless for a variety of reasons. Jack and Dianne were, for the simple fact they rarely got to see much magic. Hermione was in awe, proud, and slightly jealous of her best friend. Minerva had never heard of a twelve year old able to cast a N.E.W.T. level spell that casually, let alone a corporeal patronus which most adults had trouble with, if they could do it at all. That it happened to be one of her young Gryffindors didn't hurt her pride in the least.

Amelia, however, was astounded because, while most Aurors, and many of her MLE officers could cast one, none she knew of could do it so effortlessly. And that was setting aside how few people in the entirety of Wizarding Britain could create one and keep it distinct and fully formed that long. "_For that matter_," she thought_," the bloody thing looked almost alive and real, like you could touch it."_ She again looked calculatingly at the lad for a bit.

Harry smiled at all the adults and his dearest friend, hoping they all understood at least in part why he had done that. He told them then, "I had to learn that from Professor Lupin, this coming year because the Dementors make me pass out." To the still shocked looking people around the table he confirmed, "As I said, according to the memories he will teach Defence this coming year, at least I hope he does. He was the best one we had, so far as the memories tell me, which unfortunately isn't saying much. He's good, though, and I hope he can stay on this time, werewolf or not. He was outed by Snape at the end of the year," the youngster added distastefully.

Minerva's eyebrows rose considerably when another thought occurred to her. She asked, "Didn't you say your father's animagus form was a stag, Harry?"

He grinned and said, "Yes, it sure was, and my Patronus was amazing to both Professor Lupin and me, though I didn't find out about it until some months later."

The Professor replied, "That was absolutely astonishing, Harry. We must speak of this another time." He only nodded in response.

Amelia spoke next, saying firmly, "You have my undivided attention, Mr Potter; I know few people who can cast a patronus that well. Given your age, I'm surprised you aren't exhausted, but then given the strength of the accidental magic you performed earlier today I don't suppose I should be."

Harry smiled at the compliment and ducked his head, blushing a bit. He was still alternating back and forth between using the memory personality and his own, so that his reactions were mostly that of a twelve year old.

"Thank you ma'am," he replied. "I was pleased, frankly, that it was you who came this evening. Last time around, in those future memories or whatever they are, when I did something similar later in the summer it was Fudgehead himself who caught up with me. Fortunately, though, he didn't seem to take the incident too seriously, and told me he just wanted to make sure I was safe. He said circumstances change, and that they didn't go expelling students for blowing up their aunts. I then I pointed out that's exactly what they threatened last summer when a house elf levitated a pudding and they assumed it was me." Harry knew he had a sour look about him at that statement.

While the others either sucked in their breath or didn't quite see the irony in that statement, Amelia laughed outright. "Oh, Mr Potter, I think we are going to get along famously. It seems we both have the same opinions of certain people." She smirked, first at him, and then Minerva who couldn't help but smile, nodding but not voicing her own opinion which Amelia knew they shared. All reasonably intelligent people in Magical Britain thought that way about the largely ineffectual minister. Few could understand how he'd been elected at all. The elderly Auror didn't tell her long-time friend what she thought about Albus Dumbledore, an opinion that was rapidly further degrading as the evening wore on.

But then, in a friendly tone Amelia asked, "Mr Potter, may I call you Harry?"

He nodded assent, saying, "I'd like that, ma'am."

"Good, then you should call me Amelia when we are in informal settings like this. In my office and such I'd prefer you use a more formal title, please."

He grinned, "I think I can do that, Amelia." He tried out the name and found he liked being able to address someone in that way whom the future memories told him he'd always admired.

"Good," she replied. "That goes for you too, Miss Granger, if I may use your first name as well."

Hermione blushed but smiled, "Yes, ma'am, that would be fine… er, Amelia." She blushed a bit harder.

The woman laughed lightly but then turned serious once more. "Harry, you said there was at least one more person who was an escaped Death Eater I believe?"

"Yes, Amelia, however, let me give you a bit of background before I amaze and astound you with that bit of skulduggery and slight of hand, so to speak. In our fourth year some moron decides to resurrect the Triwizard Tournament. I was forced to compete when my name came out of the Goblet of Fire, even though it was put in there by the same Death Eater I'm speaking of, and despite that it was supposed to be restricted to people who were at least seventeen. And all that is besides the fact that Dumbledore put enchantments up which were supposed to guard against entry by underage wizards. I was stuck competing, because it was a purportedly binding magical contract. I never questioned that, and Dumbledore insisted because of it. I'll get to my feelings about him as relates to these memories later," he added a little darkly.

"Our Defence Teacher that year was the infamous Mad-Eye Moody, known far and wide as the single most paranoid man, wizard, and retired Auror on the face of the planet."

Amelia laughed again, "You hit that on the head, Harry, described my old mentor and friend to a tee."

"Yeah, he's great, and I do like him despite that. I just wish he had actually been our professor." To the bemused looks all around, he said sourly, "Instead he'd been captured by that same damnable Death Eater, held in his own trunk for nearly a year, and used as a component of Polyjuice potion. Namely, his hair was said ingredient. Now, for the grand finale: the Death Eater I'm speaking of was taken out of Azkaban by his father at his mother's insistence, her dying wish if you will. When they got permission to visit, because she was dying, she switched places with him using Polyjuice. He has been held in his home under the Imperius curse and often hidden under an invisibility cloak ever since. Sound familiar, Amelia?" She looked thoughtful, so he sweetened the pot. "His father put him there."

The light of understanding came on in her eyes and in Minerva's, and both then took on very hard looks. Amelia appeared decidedly un-amused, in fact.

The DMLE Head's voice was hard as titanium steel when she ground out, "Are you telling me, Harry, that Bartemius Crouch is keeping his own son under the Imperius Curse, and that his wife is buried under Polyjuice out at Azkaban? And further, that the grave which supposedly contains her body is empty?"

Harry's eyes were just as flint hard as hers at that moment, and she knew without a doubt he told the absolute truth. "Yes, Amelia," he responded, "Barty Crouch Junior, who willingly helped torture Frank and Alice Longbottom into insanity using the Cruciatus Curse, is right now in his father's home, and most likely under the Imperius. I'm sure that someone on your staff can determine long-term use of that horrid spell."

Her voice softened when she replied, "Yes, Harry, we can. We can also determine approximately how long it has been in use on a person."

He merely nodded, knowing that was true from the future memories. "Good," he said, "because I really want to see both of those criminals in prison!" Harry was only slightly less adamant than earlier about Pettigrew. He added, "Crouch Senior, is one of those responsible for that blasted tournament, though I have to wonder just whose idea it was in the first place. I'd be willing to bet that can be laid at the feet of a certain manipulative old miscreant I'd rather not speak of at the moment. Besides which, Crouch threw Sirius in Azkaban without a trial or anything. How can that be right?" he asked rhetorically. "Beyond that, though, I shudder at the thought of what those people did to Neville's parents."

He was leaning forward to speak with Amelia, but then Hermione put her hand on the inside of his arm. He looked around at her and sat back. She was wide eyed at all he had just revealed. She asked, timorously, "Harry, did that really happen to Neville's parents? How do you know that? Oh," she blushed, "the future memories, right." She turned with a raised eyebrow to the other two witches.

Amelia was lost in thought, but Minerva looked down for a moment, then back up to smile sadly. "Yes, Miss Granger, what Harry says is true about the Longbottoms. They were outstanding Aurors and good friends, as were Harry's parents. I dearly miss them all. I do hope, though, that you'll not mention this to Neville. It really is his secret to tell, or not, as he chooses."

Hermione's look was also sad, when she replied, "Of course, Professor. I rather assumed that anyway, but I appreciate you saying so."

Harry nodded his agreement to Minerva and turned to Jack and Dianne. As he explained the three Unforgivable curses to them, especially the Cruciatus and its effects to them their eyes filled with horror.

Trying to lighten the mood and thinking he was joking, Jack said, "Harry, lad, you sound like you've experienced that one a few times."

Harry sadly told them, "I'm the only known person to have survived all three of them intact, if these future memories are true. I can throw off the Imperius fairly easily, or at least I have several times according to what the memories tell me, and have been under the Cruciatus more times than I care to remember, frankly. The one from Voldemort was the worst, though there is little difference between one foul caster and another."

All three witches were appalled, but Amelia was also intrigued. "Harry," she asked, "when and how did you learn to throw off the Imperius?"

"Fourth year, again if the memories are correct. The fake Moody put us all under it to see who could throw it off. I doubt that earned him many points with ol' Voldie who tried it on me later in the year and I threw his off too. But then Moronister Fudge had Crouch Junior Kissed before anyone could question him more thoroughly beyond what the headmaster did when he was discovered, so then I guess it didn't matter what Voldie thought. Mr Crouch Senior, was killed earlier that year by his son."

Amelia paled, choking out, "As in Kissed by a Dementor?" Minerva was just as pale. Harry nodded, and then explained that to Hermione and her parents who all then looked sickened at the concept.

"Shall I move on, then?" He asked. Amelia and Minerva both nodded distractedly, so he took up the story again.

"What I remember is that, at the end of that blasted tournament, I was kidnapped by a portkey arranged by Barty Junior, in what would be two years from last month I was then used in helping resurrect old Snake Face by having some of my blood forcefully taken. Of course Fudge, in all his idiotic glory, refused to believe he was back and to get the Wizarding World ready for him. So, the only ones prepared were us and some friends of ours," he looked fondly at Hermione as he squeezed her hand, "as well as a group Dumbledore organized during the first war." He winked at Professor McGonagall, who returned it smiling slightly. He noticed out the corner of his eye that Amelia seemed amused at the by-play.

"To put it mildly, the next three years were difficult with one thing after another going wrong. Sirius was killed at the end of fifth year, before he could be proven innocent. Then Dumbledore was murdered at the end of Sixth, but was dying anyway. He stupidly allowed himself to tamper with a cursed object, and the curse was slowly killing him. I can head that off, I believe, with a little help.

"Obviously, I'd first like to head off the death of my godfather and to get him freed. He really is a good man, despite what the press has made of him. And I want to see both Crouches in prison where they belong; the senior of the duo is every bit as bad as Junior, in my opinion. He threw quite few people in Azkaban without trial. That seems to be a constant in this wacked-out world we inhabit. Fudge put poor Hagrid there just this year, because he 'had to be seen to be doing something'."

"Please don't ask me to speak of the object causing the headmaster's death for now, because that is absolutely Most Secret information. It should only be spoken of, for now, in the most secure locations, such as your office, Amelia, and then only with strong silencing charms and a thorough sweep for listening spells and devices. In addition, there are some other, similar, objects which need to be recovered and destroyed. One already has, and I know where all the rest are, but it may not be all that easy to get to two of them. It could, in fact, take some difficult negotiating to get at least one of those, but the good news is that I might have a way of doing so."

"So, to finish at least this part of the story, in the end it came down to me having to fight Tommy-boy and kill him five years from now. Hermione, Ron, and I didn't return to school that year since we were trying to seek out some of those items I mentioned. The biggest problem is that one of those may be exceptionally hard to destroy without killing the person it… erm, accidentally became lodged in." Though he knew none of them likely had the slightest inkling what he was talking about, he got the feeling from their looks they knew exactly whom he was speaking of. Hermione's hand tightened on his ever so slightly.

There was still enraptured silence around the table, so he added, "Hmm, by way of proving myself, a bit more, Amelia, there are a couple of other things I should have no way of knowing about. The Departments of International Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports are already negotiating with Durmstrang and Beauxbatons for the tournament."

Amelia was astonished, and as she was already mostly convinced of his veracity she nodded and smiled conspiratorially at him. He returned the smile in kind, adding a wink.

"One other thing," he went on, "and I know this is a long way off, but the Quidditch World Cup will be held here in Britain next summer, and the teams in it will be Ireland and Bulgaria. Ireland will win simply because their Chasers are all but unstoppable, but Viktor Krum will catch the Snitch for Bulgaria. The ending score is really close, don't remember exactly, but there's only a few goals separating. Bulgaria can hardly score a thing, while Ireland runs over them. Krum gets the Snitch because he knows they are going to lose anyway and he wants it to be on his terms."

He smirked and winked at the adults, adding, "In case anyone wanted to make a bet with great odds." That got him a few chuckles. "Just don't place your bet with Ludo Bagman though, he's deeply in debt with the Goblins. You might want to investigate that, Amelia." He smirked after she looked thoughtful for a moment, then somewhat feral. It was obvious to Harry she didn't like Head of Magical Games and Sports. He was fairly sure she didn't care for Barty Crouch either, given how angry she had seemed earlier.

"Amelia, I don't know how our activities over the next year might change things and affect events at the World Cup, but probably they won't. After the match is over I recall a ghastly occurrence, which I imagine will very likely still happen. Late that night, while everyone is still celebrating, a bunch of arseholes…"he paused to blush and said, "sorry for that." It was waved off again by all the adults. "Anyway, some former Death Eaters put on their cute little costumes, terrorize the World Cup camping area, and torture the Muggle family who manages the campground."

Harry knew he probably looked as fierce as a twelve year old wizard could at that point. But then he realized he was squeezing Hermione's hand harder, and he had to consciously make himself relax so he didn't hurt her. He'd been looking down for a moment, lost in the memories, and now he raised his head to give her a look that said, _"Sorry, my friend"_. She gazed back with a small smile of understanding. He returned the smile, though sadly.

Looking over at Amelia who had a thoughtful, if somewhat sick look, he said, "I hope you can do something to catch those… people."

Her determined gaze told him she'd do all she could about controlling the bastards. And she replied, "You can bet there will be Aurors and MLE personnel there, hidden, who will make sure they get what is coming to them, before they can do much, if any, damage. Anyone caught in Death Eater garb is still subject to certain laws. And now we can disprove any attempt to claim the Imperius, as we spoke of earlier. That detection spell is fairly new, developed after the farce of so many of them escaping justice by claiming to be under that foul curse."

He looked across, then, at Jack and Dianne, hoping they wouldn't think he really was nutters and chuck him to the kerb, while calling the authorities to have him locked up as a menace to himself. They didn't seem angry, or even particularly disturbed, but they did look rather concerned. He smiled, a bit sadly and they smiled back warmly, as if trying to bolster his confidence in his situation. His smile widened, as did theirs and he felt better seeing at least tacit acceptance.

Not feeling like talking more about his future memories for a few minutes, or even experiencing them for a bit, Harry shut them off. That helped to clear his mind some. He wanted to avoid the inevitable queries for a moment, so he told everyone, "I know you have questions, and I will answer them in a few minutes. But it makes it hard for me to be myself while I'm doing that, accessing the other memories, I guess you could say. Would anyone mind if we talk about other things for a few minutes so I can get me back in control of myself? He grinned at the small joke, which did elicit some chuckles from the others.

Amelia, Professor McGonagall, and Hermione all seemed poised to ask what he was sure would be a torrent of questions, and he noticed Jack and Dianne had a few of their own it seemed. After his request they all relaxed some and nodded or voiced agreement.

Harry smiled then at everyone and quipped, "So that is how my morning went." After a few chuckles he continued. "After Petunia got the doo-doo scared out of her, she was rather amenable to me ringing you," he nodded to the Grangers, "and coming to visit. I can't tell you how grateful I am just to be out of that house, even if it winds up being for only a few days. They make me crazy, as I'm sure you sort of sussed by now, but with what I know now, I don't want to stay there no matter what." He quieted then, looking around at the concerned faces of his friend, her parents, and two older witches. These were the people he regarded higher than most anyone else in Britain.

Ever the good hostess, Dianne asked, "Would anyone care for more tea?"

At that moment an owl came swooping into the garden, dropped a letter in front of Harry, and was heading back out when Amelia commanded, "Halt! I will need you for a reply." The surprised looking owl turned back to land on the waterfall of the pool, and calmly awaited the return missive. It did avail itself of the flowing water to get a drink, however.

Harry picked up the envelope and showed it to Hermione who was shocked to discover it was addressed to both of them. She panicked for a moment as she realized what the letter was and who it was from. Harry smiled though, and that calmed her as she remembered what Madam Bones, Amelia rather, had said.

Dianne, who'd been in the act of getting the tea things together so as to freshen it all, paused as the owl left its letter. Seeing her daughter's pale and frightened expression, and naturally being concerned, she asked, a moment ahead of Jack, "What is it dear? Is it bad news?"

Amelia answered, saying "It is likely from the Improper Use of Magic Office, and will be a warning about the Patronus charm having been performed adjacent to them. It is always assumed that if magic is performed near an underage witch or wizard in a muggle household that they are the perpetrators. One must provide proof otherwise if they did not do so."

Harry asked, "Just out of curiosity, Amelia, what would happen if I actually had to fight off a Dementor and used that charm but not very effectively. Would anyone be sent to see if there was a good reason for me having done that?"

Hermione chose that moment to jerk the letter from his hand and rip it open, almost angrily it seemed. She hissed, akin to Crookshanks in a bad mood, when she read the contents.

Amelia ignored the angry young witch for a moment, though she did give her a benevolent smile which seemed to calm the girl a bit, and replied, "That is a very good question, Harry, and you will not like the answer, I'm afraid. The official Ministry position is that the Dementors are all under Ministry control and therefore not going to bother anyone. Consequently the use of a Patronus, except by Ministry personnel is not normally responded to, without due cause for us to expend the resources. Not that the Aurors have had that much to do lately, and Merlin knows the MLE officers aren't really over-burdened at the moment either. But, that is the political climate under Minister Fudge."

She was nearly smirking when she added, "I do, by the way, like your references to him, quite appropriate, for one of his ilk." The matronly witch then grinned like a school girl. After a moment, she added, "But I'll vehemently deny it if you tell anyone that." She was still smiling, though.

Beside her, Minerva snorted in a manner neither of her students had ever heard before. At their inquiring looks, she stated, "Let's just say, Mr Potter and Miss Granger, that I have heard nothing here this evening about the Minister with which I disagree, and let it go at that." She looked rather stern, but there was a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth and her eyes were dancing, almost twinkling like Dumbledore's when he was highly amused.

That all gave everyone a good laugh and was an excellent tension breaker for the seriousness of the last hour or so. Harry read the letter and passed it on to Jack and Dianne who read it together:

_Dear Miss Granger and Mr Potter,_

_We have received intelligence that a Patronus Charm was used in close proximity to the both of you and at Miss Granger's residence at two minutes before seven this evening._

_As you know underage wizards and witches are not permitted to perform magic outside of school and any further spellwork on the part of either of you may lead to your expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875 Paragraph C)._

_We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity which risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offence, under section 13 of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy._

_Mr Potter, please note this is your second offence and as such members of the Magical Law Enforcement will be visiting your location shortly to investigate the circumstances. You must present yourself and your wand for this investigation at that time. If you are found in violation of the statutes you will be prosecuted under the above mentioned laws. If you fail to make yourself and your wand available at that time, you will face even more serious prosecution under the law. When you are located your wand will be confiscated until after you are prosecuted, at which time it will likely be snapped and you expelled from school permanently._

Enjoy your holidays!

Sincerely yours,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic1

Dianne absently handed the letter off to Minerva who perused it briefly, her eyebrows rising and her ire increasing even more at the mention of Harry possibly being expelled. That would happen over her dead body. And if it did, then she'd tutor the boy herself with a wand procured… elsewhere. Even if she had to do so as a ghost.

Taking the letter from Minerva's hand, which she noticed trembled a bit, Amelia was surprised to see the thinned lips and narrowed eyes indicating extreme anger in her old friend. She decided to lighten the mood a bit, after perusing the letter briefly. She said in a joking tone, "Well, I shall just have to disabuse Ms Hopkirk of certain notions, which I know for a fact she has adopted from the Minister's Senior Undersecretary."

This joke, however, also fell quite flat as Harry immediately growled out, "Umbridge."

At the inquiring looks of the others he stated, "The Amazing Toad Woman, according to the future memories, was our purported fifth year Defence Professor, if what you want to call what she did teaching." Seemed he couldn't shut the memories off as easily as he thought.

Amelia looked amused, despite his tone, as she told him, "Yes, Harry, the very same. It would tickle me no end to discover something on that… witch that could get her kicked out of the ministry."

Oddly, at least to the kids, Minerva nodded and fairly hissed at that statement. It was fairly obvious she knew and disliked the woman as much as Amelia did.

The latter dug a quill and ink out of somewhere on her person, and penned an acidic reply to Hopkirk's missive advising that she was on the premises, and warning that they would be talking in the morning as to who had the right and responsibility to discipline children accused of violating statutes. She then called the owl back to her and attached the note to its leg and sending it on its way back to the Ministry. Apparently it arrived back before a squad of the "ever vigilant" MLE officers could be dispatched.

Harry grew thoughtful, and, much as he hated to, opened the future memories fully again. For a couple of minutes he ignored the conversation around him, vaguely noting Dianne disappearing to get more tea, though the teapot was already filled and hot thanks to Minerva. He dimly took notice that Jack mentioned he'd talked with his friend, Alden, and they had agreed to combining a bit of business with a lot of pleasure on the morrow.

After a time, the young wizard came out of his thoughts to hear Jack and Dianne explaining to the older witches how they knew Alden and his family, and that they had a very large surprise in store for the family. It was a light-hearted moment, in an evening of, so far, dark conversation and was appreciated and needed by all.

Moments later, they all had another good laugh when a second owl appeared, apparently due to the conjuration and charm Minerva had cast on the teapot. Amelia commanded it to halt, once again, and gave it back the letter instructing it to return it to Ms Hopkirk. The owl looked extremely confused, but flew off nonetheless.

When that laughter died down, Harry smirked at Amelia and asked, "How would you like get shut of Madam Umbridge," he sarcastically stressed the honorific, "and at the same time take down or remove most if not all of the Death Eaters and their sympathizers from the Ministry? Hmm, come to think on it, doing that should unseat his Fudginess as well." His smirk became even more pronounced.

For a while they discussed the idea and its implications and possible ramifications. The discussion continued for some time on that and other topics. Harry spoke of some of the other things to have occurred which he stated he truly hoped they could head off or minimize. He told them of how the Ministry had become so much more enlightened after the war, and asked if at some point they and perhaps others could brainstorm on how to accomplish that without a war.

Jack interrupted a short ways into the discussion to ask what everyone wanted for supper and to invite Amelia and Minerva to stay. The former dithered a moment, finally saying she'd love to stay regardless that she'd already dined, if they didn't mind. The latter accepted graciously. The consensus was to order in Chinese food, and the two older witches were surprised at how good it was, Amelia having been tempted into having some despite having eaten earlier. She had a small helping of each dish before they finished. Warming charms on the food, supplied by the professor, increased everyone's enjoyment and little remained after the meal.

At one point they discussed Harry's future living arrangements and he secured promises from both Minerva and Amelia to assist as much as they could in him moving his abode from the Dursleys to the Grangers. The Deputy Headmistress also promised to run as much interference with the MOB as she could. She and Amelia grinned wickedly with how they could bury the man under mountains of parchmentwork over the next while. Amelia said she might be able to start a very on-the-sly, ultra-secret investigation into his involvement in Harry's placement as a toddler and into Sirius' imprisonment without trial. She explained that, to her cop side, some things just "smelled wrong" there.

The two older witches stayed much later than either had intended, learning a lot from Harry, and thoroughly enjoying the two children as well as the two Muggle parents. As the evening was winding down Harry became pensive again and told them all, "I am desperately going to need the support of all of you, and truly hope I can count on it in the coming months and years." He received firm promises of support from all.

Actually, he didn't especially care what changed in the long term. He now knew how to head off certain events and how to corral the threat to his life, his friend's lives, and all the pain the second rise of that snake would create. In that moment he vowed to stop it. He would tell Hermione everything else about it soon and together they would become a force to be reckoned with. He hoped Ron and their other friends would join them, but he and Hermione had always been at the heart of it, and always would be.

**:TBC:**

**A/N:** This may seem somewhat like a "place-holder" chapter as there is no particularly new information. But the way the story is told, who is involved, and a few other things buried in the rhetoric are very important to the story. This is, quite literally a pivotal chapter. The chapter title is from another Animals song, "Don't Let Me be Misunderstood". I added the first word, which is part of the tag-line in the song.

1With some minor changes and one inserted paragraph, this is quoted from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Bloomsbury Edition, pg 21 © 1998 J. K. Rowling.


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